Hidden Truth of Feeling
by BettyMayLou
Summary: A second glance at Elizabeth, and Darcy felt an immediate pull. In a library one evening, his guard dropped, and he couldn't help himself. It was not a lady's imagination that led a rapid jump from admiration to matrimony skipping over love, but it was rather the heated actions of both. Deep feelings tend to get in the way when hidden and can undo the potential for happiness.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** \- This is my first attempt at publishing anything! I appreciate all helpful notes along the way. I love P &P and thought to turn all of my little scribblings into a story. I already have the plot outlined. Yay! For better or worse, I promise to finish! Thank you for reading.

 **Update 10/3/2016** : I am now adding the prologue

* * *

 **Prologue:**

Darcy was still in his night shirt as he sat in the plush chair staring out over the hills of Matlock watching his carriage pull up the dust into the air as his wife continued into the distance. There was an aching within his heart, even more than the one which usually rested there, and it grew with every moment she and the carriage drew further out of sight.

 _It is what she wants. I will get through this for her sake_.

He could not stand to watch the small dot of his coach fade to nothing over the rolling sun-kissed wheat, so he turned away from the window and went to find his riding attire. He needed to get out of this house. He needed to be away from everyone and everything so he could process what his life had become.

He managed his boots himself. He did not want to see Johnson. That man practically loved Elizabeth as much as he did, albeit in a much different way. He was not going to bear the accountability of the man, not this morning, and not after last night.

Why was it that every time they seemed close to finding happiness it slipped from their grasp? Maybe he was delusional. Maybe he just thought happiness was just one kiss or pleasant smile away when in truth he never had a chance.

He went to his small writing desk and retrieved the betrothal ring. He was going to ride to the closest peak and fling it as far as he could and perhaps fling his heart with it. He was a Darcy, and he had great responsibility. He wife obviously did not care that he had a responsibility to her above all else. She did not see his care, respect, or even his love. She did not want to any of it. She said so last night. It was time to call the sham of a marriage what it was. She could establish her life as she saw fit. It was time to move on with his.

He turned the small silver band in his hand and studied the inscription. _All I refuse and thee I chuse_. What a foolish thought. He wished more than ever to go back to the night in Hertfordshire when he saw her by the light of a fire and chose to walk away. He did not even love her then. _That is not true_. He may not have recognized it, but he had loved her before that. He could not account for it, but he knew it to be true. Why could he not tell her the truth?

He truly wished he could go back to the day in her father's field, lay bare his soul, and tell her she had a choice. He knew it would not have been him, but the rejection surely would not be this terrible after now seeing small hints of what life could be behind the heavy curtain of what was truly reality. Perhaps if had not the chance to sink this far into the despair of loving her, he could have pulled himself to safety before it was too late. For now, he was a drowned man.

He would always love her. There could never be another. However, they had to find some way to move forward. Apart. Perhaps he would go to Skye and live out his days there. That was a place of recent happy memories. He had no wish to see Pemberley. He promised himself not to take her home, to his home, their home, until he won her heart. That was an impossibility. She could go there to live on her own with Georgie. Georgie's children would have to inherit. There was no future for his own despite the demand he put on Elizabeth the day after their wedding. He could not ask it of her. He loved her too much. And, it would break him see her with his children but no love in her eyes for him.

He must think. If only an annulment was possible, but he knew there was no just reason in the eyes of any law. Their marriage did not fit any of the criteria. Perhaps it was time to seek the counsel of his uncle. _Later_.

For now, Darcy gathered what he could of any proof of his love for her. He packed the letters - _all the letters_ , the pressed flowers, her ribbon with her scent, the piece of her tattered petticoat, her glove from the night of the masque, and the ring she flung in her room the night of their wedding. He put it all in his satchel with a bottle of whiskey and escaped down the servant's staircase.

He rode his horse with a fury even he had not known before. There were not shouts of excitement spurring on his mount as the wind hit his face. He just wanted to be far away from the torment that was the last shred of hope fading from his marriage.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Elizabeth passed the last several hours in a Netherfield bedroom alternately praying for her dear sister's health and whispering to a sleeping, feverish Jane all that had transpired in dining parlour and subsequently, the drawing room.

Earlier in the morning she had received a letter from Jane who had fallen ill at Netherfield and hastened through the mud and the muck to her sister's side that she might aide her recovery and offer support.

Thankfully, for whatever reason, Caroline's abilities as hostess shone through her haughty manner, and under cover of politeness, Elizabeth was asked to stay in the grand home for the duration of Jane's recovery.

"Oh sweet, Jane. It was bordering somewhere on hilarity and mortification listening to Caroline and Mr. Darcy speak of the ideals on an accomplished woman. I have to say that our new friends have quite lofty ideals of the matter, and I am convinced they think me quite the opposite."

Elizabeth laughed softly to herself and at herself as she continued wiping a sleeping Jane's perspiring brow. Although Jane was sleeping, Elizabeth though her soft tones to her sister provided calm.

"One thing is for certain however, Mr. Bingley must think of you as his ideal. I so pray you are better on the morrow and can witness his adoration for yourself. His concern for you was evident all evening, and sweetling, I assure you, it is not _only_ because you are a guest in his care."

Elizabeth smiled at Jane's potential for contentment in a suitor. For Jane's happiness was Elizabeth's happiness. They were more than sisters but the truest friends, and both equally exalted the other above themselves.

The other reason for smiling is that in the past couple of hours under her sister's care and comfort, Jane's fever was finally showing signs of not quite abating, but at least reaching its peak. She could sense Jane take a turn into a more restful slumber.

A knock at the door sounded that made Elizabeth look up from her sister's countenance. _What time was it even?_

"Enter."

A young maid entered that Elizabeth knew quite well as the young daughter of a Longbourn tenant. "Rebecca, it is just after midnight. What are you still doing about? We are quite well here; I think Jane is turning a corner," Elizabeth whispered to the girl she remembered stitching dresses for several years ago.

Mrs. Bennet, though atrocious in manner much of the time, never neglected the needs of the estate's tenants and saw that her daughters followed her example by making and mending clothing for the children, distilling herbs for medicinals, or making up baskets with bread, dried meats, and sundries when a family on their land was suffering in some way.

"Miss Elizabeth, several of us have been anxious of Miss Jane and wanted to provide assistance. It is quite late, and I am able to take your place if you would like to get some rest for a while."

While some may see the maid as impertinent for showing herself to a guest without a direct summons or order, Elizabeth knew Rebecca and many other of the servants in the house truly cared for Jane. And, while she hated to leave her sister for even a moment, she thought the best way to show her appreciation was to let Rebecca stay and take her place for a short while.

Many of the servants were from the local area and known directly to the Bennet family. There was a strong tie among most that resided in this nook of Hertfordshire, and they, in most ways, took care of each other when illness or calamity arose.

"Rebecca, I must thank you and all the others for the kind thoughts, words and service. I'd be happy to let you take my place for a couple of hours while I rest. I shan't be more than two hours, and then I'll resume duties for the rest of the evening. Jane is finally comfortably resting, so the most you need to do is reassure her quietly if she becomes restless and keep her skin cool with the basin of water and rag next to the bed."

"Of course, ma'am. I shall ring for Betsy and send for you if anything becomes alarming."

Rebecca lifted the back of her hand to Jane's forehead, gave her sleeping form a critical eye, and then smiled. "But, you are correct, she looks much better than just earlier this evening. Thank you for letting me help."

"Rebecca, it is you who deserves my thanks," Elizabeth said as she clasped the maid's hands.

She then turned to Jane, bent down to kiss her cheek, and whispered, "Oh dear, sweet sister, rest love. I'll return soon."

Elizabeth went to her room down the guest hall. There was no way she would be able to fall asleep despite the lateness of evening if she wanted to make it back to Jane's room to relieve Rebecca in a couple of short hours. She laid upon her bed and went over the evening and all that transpired.

She laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of her hostess and sister. Even Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley provided inspiration for some mirth. Although, she couldn't quite find herself laughing at Mr. Darcy with all of his austerity of manner.

The whole of the conversation was outlandish with Miss Bingley fanning on about Miss Darcy and her list of what every accomplished woman should claim to _deserve the word_.

 _I wonder if they teach 'a certain something in air and manner of walking' at all prestigious finishing schools for young ladies… oh, how has my education been amiss?!_

Elizabeth could entirely imagine a whole month of lessons to a bunch of tittering girls, resembling Kitty and Lydia no less, on how to possess a 'certain' manner of walking. Elizabeth was just thankful her own manner of walking was learned while running through fields of wildflower and jumping over rock bridges she made to cross the many brooks running over their lands.

She thought on Miss Bingley's contemptuous looks over the dinner table and colored slightly while letting her giggles wane. She was certain the group of them discussed what a hoyden she was walking all the way to Netherfield on her sister's behalf, Mr. Bingley of course excluded. Her manner of entrance most certainly did not measure up to the standards of the ladies of the house.

She was not sure she should feel guilty over a lack of embarrassment. She would walk so much longer and through so much more unpleasantness to reach an ailing sister. And, that was nothing for which to feel ashamed.

She thought of Mr. Darcy. He was so, so… well she wasn't sure what she thought of the gentlemen. She was quite aware of their mutual dislike, but she couldn't quite laugh at him as she had the rest of the party.

He of course gave her disapproving glares and was incongruent with many of her own opinions. He was also sharp, and if she had to admit, he was handsome. She of course still felt wounded over his remarks from the assembly several weeks ago. Although this was a private thought not even shared with Jane.

She started to feel indignant again at the thought and didn't want to admit even to herself that some handsome and, as it turned out, intelligent man had so deeply wounded her vanity. So, she took her thought back and decided it would do no good for herself to give over and admit his looks were in any way attractive. She would focus on something else entirely.

 _What was it that Mr. Darcy said earlier about accomplished women? Oh yes, an accomplished woman must add something more by improving her mind through extensive reading._

Elizabeth blushed, and again the indignant felling flared in her chest. She had been reading prior to his comment. But, surely, that was not meant for her. Her stomach gave a slight drop at the thought. Oh, what a vexing man indeed. Why use her actions that evening to parry Miss Bingley's ridiculous notions! She was all but certain that Miss Bingley, and probably herself, grated his nerves and was subtly contrary because he just could not help himself.

 _Infuriating man!_

She did have a pure enjoyment of the written word and him announcing 'extensive reading' as an accomplishment had nothing to do with her enjoyment. She very much disliked the idea of tying one of her favorite activities to the absurd discussion earlier in the drawing room.

As the clock chimed a half into the midnight hour, Elizabeth thought of no better way to keep herself awake than with a good book. She put her feet into her slippers, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, and headed to the library to pick from Mr. Bingley's moderate selections.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of ivory hitting ivory filled the room.

 _Finally._ He had not bested Charles at billiards once in the previous se'nnight and was tempted to give it up entirely. Although he was a gracious loser to his friend, it most definitely rankled he couldn't manage one defeat in the several per day they played. Then a thought crossed his mind which rankled further.

"Charles, tell me that was not pity on your part."

"Do not fret Darce, your victory was on merit alone. I now believe you owe me one less farthing."

The two close friends had been wagering a farther per game of billiards among other things since their days at Cambridge.

"Of course Charles, and just what is the tally now?"

"Not quite certain since we both know we stopped counting years ago, but I believe you owe me more than I owe you."

"And you know you can collect at will if you ever figure out the amount. Although, I dare say that if you would be willing to expand our little wager to another sport, we would be even quite quickly."

"And you know how I feel about participating in any competition where the odds are not stacked in my favor, cards for purely social requirements withstanding." Bingley tipped his glass and took a sip of the fine Brandy that was procured via a questionable channel.

Darcy smiled and laughed at his friend. Darcy was restrained about any form of betting, preferring only to gamble on lucrative investments that would benefit his holdings and estates, and even then he was fastidious. But his friend, Charles Bingley, was even more prudent, preferring to keep his family's hard-earned fortune close. However, Bingley's willingness to spend some of that fortune on the French illegal amber liquid was an entirely other matter.

They were quite the pair considering their habits in comparison to their peers' vices. Although, most of their circle of friends and acquaintances respected them enough for their choices and were only made to complain when there was an empty chair at a White's card table that went unfilled.

"I say, Charles, I plan to do a little fencing in the morning with Brooks, and you would be a suitable replacement. I wouldn't even ask to wager on the outcome." Darcy said this with a smile knowing his friends probable answer.

"Oh, that is rich Darcy! You know damned well I am no competition with foils as I have no natural talent. Hell man, even your footman, Brooks, would run me through. Apologies that my abode doesn't offer you the variety of competition you might find at Angelo's, so Brooks will have to do. The last time we went rounds, I winced at every movement for days. No thank you, and you know how I feel about losing in general."

"Touché. Although, I do have to commend Brooks on his ability." Darcy thought over what Bingley said for a moment and then unwilling to give up, replied, "Although Bingley, seeing as how your home here does not offer me the all-important _variety_ that keeps my skill as sharp as my foil, I do see it falls to your lot to make-up for it." Darcy knew he was goading his friend and quite enjoying it.

"What say you to a compromise? After your fencing exercise _with Brooks_ , we can do a little shooting and even wager a farthing on it. Not only will it get us out of Caroline's path for the morning, you can also attempt to make up your enormous debt to me. As benefit to myself, I shall not suffer physical pain, only a little pride. You know you are a bloody demon with your rapier. I know not where you store that hidden aggression, but I have no want for you to unleash on me."

Darcy tried not to look sheepish at his friend's words, for he knew exactly where he stored what Bingley mistook as aggression and wondered what his friend did with his as Darcy was fairly certain of Bingley's habits, and that they most likely suffered from a similar affliction.

Darcy regained control of his thoughts lest they wander further and replied, "I agree to your compromise, and we will let the coveys suffer tomorrow instead. A farthing per fowl, but truly we shall let your cook and your table reap the rewards."

"Very good, sir."

With that they saluted their drinks in agreement of the terms.

Darcy put his glass down knowing that he should not partake any further. He had one glass more than he thought he ought. _Although, the night was quite trying._ No, he must keep excuses at bay. He kept himself under strict regulation when it came to spirits. The exception being perhaps one night a year in which his cousins would contrive him to overindulge after being confined with family for an extended holiday.

"You know Darcy, I do fervently hope Miss Bennet is feeling much better tomorrow. I was sorry to lose her company this evening." Bingley spoke this as he got up for an additional serving of his fine French illicit liquid.

Darcy inwardly groaned. Since he and Bingley excused themselves from the drawing room not long after Miss Elizabeth, he had done well keeping anyone with the name Bennet out of his thoughts. And, Bingley had done equally well not speaking of Miss Jane Bennett.

Ever a gentlemen, Darcy replied, "Of course, I agree and hope Miss Bennet's health is restored expeditiously for the sake of us all." _I hope this_ f _or everyone's sake that she may return home quickly and taking her sister with her._

Changing the subject, Darcy suggested with a nod to his friend's glass, "Bingley, dare say you have had enough?"

Bingley was in no mood for a scolding from his ever sober friend, so he let the comment slip by without acknowledgement.

"You know Darcy, Miss Bennett is everything pure and lovely. I hate to think her suffering in any way, and in my home no less. Although, I must say I am glad she is nearby even if I can't go to her myself to see to her comfort. Damned propriety!"

Darcy contemplated his mostly full glass. "Instead of finishing my drink here, I may need to pour it over your head if you keep up such sentimental nonsense."

Bingley laughed. "Fine Darcy, judge me for my sentimental nonsense as you put it. It is not any different from any other time you have upbraided me for my feelings toward a lady, although I dare say my feelings this time are quite different as any time in the past. She is as perfect in spirit and countenance as I have ever beheld. Someday, you will find yourself talking such nonsense, and I will never let you hear the end of it. Be warned, my friend!"

Darcy rolled his eyes and looked to the fire which was starting to burn low. He felt it confirmed that this was the point at which to withdrawal. He was not about to have this little tête-à-tête with his fuddled and clearly besotted friend. And, he was not about to think of himself in Bingley's state of expounding on a woman's virtues… a _particular_ woman's virtues. _Hell, most definitely time to remove myself to my own company and away from his drunk influence._

"Charles, I will leave you to dwell on that, friend. I am retiring for the night. I still have correspondence to attend before I turn in. I look forward to our shooting in the morning, and may I be the victor."

Charles smirked, stood, and clasped his friend's hand. "Your pride, my friend, needs to be placed in check. I doubt you will claim victory so easily. I have been practicing quite regularly while you have been out riding to… well, wherever you have been riding to since your arrival. It assuredly would not hurt to add to my not-so-paltry sum of winnings at your defeat. Until the morning, sir." Charles slushed his glass to Darcy.

"If you do not stop downing your brandy there as if were easily obtained, then I daresay my victory is not only guaranteed but easily guaranteed."

"As usual, you speak with wisdom. Better put the good drink away." Bingley shot down the rest of the liquid in his glass, bid his friend well, and sat down enjoying the last of the fire with his mind agreeably engaged on the sleeping beauty that was under his roof. He liked the thought of that very much and while wished her health to return, also wished she could stay here with him longer than just a few days more.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites and follows! This is a longer chapter.**

Mr. Darcy walked in the room and leaned back against the door exhaling loudly.

Why had he agreed to come to this forsaken place? He had asked himself this question no less than five times throughout the course of the day. He supposed, as usual, there was no stronger motivation than that of friendship.

Darcy kept a wide circle of acquaintances, and among those, there were a few that were more akin to friends. But, truly, he kept a much smaller contingent of relationships that were very intimate, and Bingley was counted within that group. These were the people whose support of him never wavered. He kept these few individuals as a shroud of mostly confirmation and sometimes edification that he often did not recognize he needed so much.

Charles Bingley and Fitzwilliam Darcy spent only one year together in Cambridge. The former was in his first year at Trinity College, and the latter was in his exit year at King's College. They met at a debate society function in which each was representing their respective college. Darcy's victory was not so remarked as he was a usual victor. However, the brawling that night, over the judgment in favor of Darcy, went down in infamy. Although distressing, Bingley had the good grace to acknowledge the loss. His debating brothers, however, had no such grace. Luckily, both Darcy and Bingley had the good sense to exist the venue before they were thrown into the ruckus they inadvertently started. After making their escape, it was then that Darcy invited Bingley to a game of billiards, and Bingley, with pride looking for retribution, said he would be glad to go a couple of rounds and even offered a small wager on the game.

"Sir, are you well?"

Keeping his eyes closed and his head against the door, replied, "Yes, Mr. Johnson, I am well."

"May I bring you a glass of water or help with your dress?"

Darcy opened his eyes and strode over to his ancient valet who took his coat. "I am not quite retiring. If it is not too late for some tea, I would appreciate a small service. Otherwise, that is all I require for the evening." He took a seat at the overly ornate and rather cramped escritoire. He was too large a man with too many important letters and ledgers to be cramped at such a small desk.

"Tea should not be a problem, sir. Many below stairs are still awake on account of the young miss taking ill."

"Tell me, is she truly unwell, or is this just the usual ploy of a young lady with a prize in mind?"

Theodore Johnson let the slightest look of disapproving eyes slip toward his master before replying, "Sir, the lady is truly unwell, and many below stairs, who have known of her in some cases since her birth, are quite anxious for a return to health."

"I see."

"Actually, the devotion of so many servants to a guest is quite an uncommon thing as I've seen in my tenure of service, sir."

Darcy quirked a strong brow on his tanned, fine face. "What do you suspect the reason?"

"Most seem to have some personal story of how she or her sister has bestowed some kindness. Honestly, I suspect if there were to be some household mutiny, the brawn would be on the side of the guests currently occupying the suite of rooms just a couple of doors down the corridor."

"I see, and do any of the servants describe these kindnesses?

"Just the general sorts of thing, sir. Brining local children clothing, supplementing tables of the poorest, comforting during tragedy, proving tonics and such – the normal sorts of things good gentry does for those beneath them." Darcy thought he knew lots of _good gentry_ who did half of such things. "There was a particular story about Miss Bennet, her sister, and their mother personally caring for some children on their estate after the mother was taken in childbirth. It took several days for relations to come for the children as the father was in no shape to care for them on his own – too much drink. Apparently, the Misses Bennet still send the children various trinkets and needs."

"Very well. Still, the usual precautions if you don't mind before you retire. I'm sure the ladies are everything as you said, but I can't put my faith in _all_ the ladies of the house to act with decorum."

Mr. Johnson showed not even the hint of annoyance for having to be reminded of such thing. "Of course. I will return with tea shortly and then leave you for the night."

"Thank you."

Darcy smirked after his valet closed and locked the door. He knew he didn't have to remind his valet that after certain hours the door remain locked, and he knew his valet did not like be reminded of his duties in general. But, he always tried to get a rise out of the humdrum fellow every chance he could by reminding him anyway. Darcy suspected that long ago and after so many years together it was always a game as to who could remain the most stoic and formal in each other's company.

As for the locking of his chambers, Darcy was a very fine catch the 'fishers of men' (eligible young females) wanted to reel in, and this was one of the best precautions against getting caught on a temptress's hook. His particular valet was not only tedious over his master's grooming but was more so over his reputation. There was more than one instance in the past that Mr. Johnson had to interfere in a young woman's plot, and he did so with such nonchalance and effectiveness that usually sent the lady away in tears of mortification and himself away as if nothing had occurred other than flicking a speck of lint from the cuff of a jacket.

Mr. Johnson, a sharp quiet man with a taller, stealthier frame than Darcy and silver hair matching his silver eyes, had been Mr. George Darcy's valet beginning when _that_ Mr. Darcy came of age. He was not only the senior Darcy's valet but probably his closest confidant outside his wife. Darcy's father lived the golden rule of respecting all others, certainly servants, and always pressed it upon his son. _"For your existence and happiness is largely dependent on those beneath you, and it will serve you well to value that in all your dealings with those in your protection."_ Young Master Darcy was taught to address his father's most trusted adviser with all the respect his due, and even as the Mr. Johnson's duties changed becoming valet to the son, Darcy could never see him as anything other than an elder, close friend and servant of his father, and _Mister_ Johnson. He often thought if he weren't responsible for reviewing the household accounts and seeing his valet's name printed in the ledger by his housekeeper, he probably would have never likely learned his valet's Christian name.

The thought of replacing the older man was only once seriously considered when Darcy wasn't sure if he could bear the pain of seeing a daily reminder of his beloved father and what he lost. It only took Mr. Johnson's sedate but meaningful comfort after the funeral service to change his manner of thinking. Having his father's confidant care for him was almost like having a piece of his father's wisdom still close.

Darcy's mind turned to what was related just a few moments ago and put his head on the cool, wood surface of the desk. It was as he thought, and he was still trying to reason out how he could deny it for his own sake – _she_ was a paragon.

Not only witty and beautiful, Elizabeth Bennet had a pure, caring spirit. She not only walked over fields to rush to a sister, who as it turned out was truly ill, she also took care of those not as fortunate, and so much so that she earned fierce loyalty. And, he had to admit, that her eldest sister was also not what he thought either.

He could not help his mistaken impression of Miss Jane Bennet. The weather was obviously taking a turn for the worse to any fool who took the trouble of looking up at the sky this morning, and to hear she set out on horseback said nothing but contriving an invitation to stay the evening. He knew all too well what conniving ladies set out to do when in a house with an eligible gentlemen for the evening without a proper chaperone. Although she looked as if she had mastered the serene and genteel countenance, how else could her actions and subsequent well-timed illness be interpreted? At the time, he had just been thankful Bingley was the target and not him. And now, on hearing this account from his valet, he was surely mistaken of the eldest Bennet daughter. He was happy he kept most of his cautions over the young lady to himself in Bingley's presence. It wouldn't do to be so mistaken to his friend. There was however the mother and the youngest girls to consider, so maybe a small amount of caution to his friend was within bounds.

He could not place the praise for Mrs. Bennet. Even if she completed enough good deeds to be proclaimed a saint, it was not possible that she lacked the ulterior motives of the greatest scheming and match-making mama there ever was.

He let out a sigh. The Bennet family was impossible. Elizabeth Bennet was impossible, and in every way. He needed to stop the madness she induced. Sitting through diner was a sweet torture he would rather not repeat. When he then thought her gone for the evening to her sister, she returned to the drawing room to bewitch him some more. _Yes, she is an impossible witch_. No, that was not fair of him at all. His chest hurt at even his own thought of thinking her such. Witches were not lovely with silken curls piled upon their pretty little heads with dark pink lips that turned up in the corners even when frowning. He just hoped that she, or anyone else for that matter, had not noticed how much he favored her. What even possessed him to use Caroline's insinuating conversation to proclaim to all in the room that he not only noticed Elizabeth's taste for the written word but complimented her for it?

Caroline surely did not need more ammunition for her assault on them both. He was already paying for his mistake of complementing her enticing eyes sometime back. But, the smug look on Caroline's face was worth it when he announced to the drawing room that a most important accomplishment was improving one's mind. He almost hoped he did find a wife someday just to invite her and all the other poachers of fine gentlemen to witness his vows – what sour looks they would all have! And, what irony if that woman standing across from him would be…Darcy sobered quickly _, absolutely not. And, I do NOT sink to spite anyhow. What is wrong with me?_

His room was suddenly overly warm for a November late night, and he needed some air. He marched to the window throwing it open with a sigh. He must get a hold of himself.

Behind him, Mr. Johnson came in with a small tea service. "Is there anything else you need for the evening, sir?"

"No, thank you. I will drink this, finish up some correspondence, and retire. I can see to myself this evening. Oh, I will be fencing first thing with Brooks and then shooting with Charles if you can see to my things in the morning."

"Very good, sir. Good night."

Darcy took a dish tea while he sat back down to review some plans sent to him by his steward for some improvements in the fields. He made the proper reply and then broke the elegant seal of a thick letter written in an equally elegant and definitely not absurd hand. His aunt could tend toward the verbose when demanding something of him, so he debated saving this particular letter for tomorrow instead. Curiosity won out.

 _Dear Nephew,_

 _I sincerely hope this finds you well, for I am sure it shall considering your letter to Georgie just arrived earlier reporting you were enjoying yourself and the Hertfordshire countryside – and perhaps the company found there?_

 _Your dear sister is well, and I suppose you have a response already from her. Stephen, Richard, Isabella, Ruth, and the children are all here making her merry. So, please cease your worrying on her account. (Do not attempt to deny anxiety Fitzwilliam; but nonetheless, please try to tamp it down for your own sake.) She is in good hands and hearts at present. I hope you may enjoy yourself on this little extended holiday of yours and perhaps even gain something meaningful from it for yourself._

 _I do hope Charles is settling in and taking his new responsibilities in all seriousness. I would have not a lack of faith in him to even say such if it were not for his mismanagement of that harridan of a sister. I will not press it upon you to say anything, but she will not likely find the Season as welcoming after bandying about the Fitzwilliam name to gain entrance to certain drawing rooms in town. You may allow the use of your name since you have no care for any of such society; however, I do not take kindly to beastly upstarts portending an acquaintance that does not exist. For goodness sake, I have a reputation of choosing ladies of character to be in my circle. As much as I respect the brother, the sister is an altogether other matter. I digress and am sure you skipped the last several lines…_

 _Ah, to win your attention back to the matter at hand…_ _ **your nuptials**_ _… and I am not considering Anne. Poor dear, such a mother. You do need a wife. I look forward to seeing you during the upcoming holiday so we may plot a bride for you. I have several candidates, and they are all lovely. As much as I cannot think anyone meets the qualities you deserve dear boy, we must start somewhere. And you, dear one, need to practice the art of wooing a lady worthy. It is beyond time you give Stephen's children some playmates - I have not hope for either Richard or Isabella since that would require them to find people of impossible bravery and cleverness._

 _Speaking of ladies, Georgie was reading aloud your latest letter to the family after dinner. Poor girl didn't even realize the chaos she created! I have counseled her to read her letters privately first for your sake. I am dreadfully sorry your cousins will be prying shortly, fair warning._

 _Anyway, you are a charming young man, even if you only show this to your favorite aunt, cousin and sister. Elizabeth sounds lovely, and if she has gained your notice that you actually mention her twice, without even the tittle of 'Lady' or 'Miss', then I am sure she beyond perfection. I am also confident that you are mucking it up. I love you as my own, but I must speak, or in this case write, the truth. I advise you to let her see the charming side we all love – just a little. Don't get carried away now as I am quite intent on the upcoming season and finding you a suitable bride, but practice is important. And, I know you to be gentleman enough that you can practice with your charm, wit, and manners with a lady you admire while not raising expectations, at least not until I meet her and decide whether or not to place her on my list of candidates. Oh, and whatever you do, do not practice your charm on the shew. Although, I give your intelligence more credit than that – my apologies._

 _Please spare your scolding in your next letter to your dear aunt and apply my wisdom. Perhaps your delightful new friend with the 'fine eyes' and 'voice of a lark' will be in town for the coming Season?_

 _Affectionately yours, Aunt Ellen Fitzwilliam_

The clock chimed the half hour and his heart raced in fear. How could he have written of Miss Elizabeth? And in such an informal manner? He could imagine the laughing speculation his family was having at his expense. His aunt was assuredly mild. His usual even complexion crimsoned at the thought of those closest to him having in inkling of his feelings toward a lady that was in every way inappropriate. He was sure though his letter must have mentioned her only in the best light; not that this was a relief. He knew the likes of Elizabeth Bennet would never make any kind of list his aunt had formed.

He was going to have to think of a clever reply to fix any theories the Fitzwilliam family may have. At least Aunt Ellen asked Georgianna to read his correspondence privately, so he would be spared of the task. Poor Georgie must have realized her mistake in reading the private letter aloud.

As he went to work on his reply, he could not stop from being restless. _It is this desk; it is made for a woman!_ He grabbed the beginning of his letter and a candle deciding to leave his jacket and shoes behind. Stepping into his slippers, he thought, _Surely, many of the staff had retired by now._

The library had a rather large writing desk where he could be comfortable and think of the best way to rebuff his aunt in the kindest of terms and fix this mess caused by his careless ode to Elizabeth. Perhaps Elizabeth was a witch indeed… a very lovely and good witch. To think he would dare mention a county lass without the courtesy of a title or last name! Thank heavens he did not mention her last name, or rather he hoped that were true. He couldn't be quite sure, for he did not even recall writing about her at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Writing is hard; editing is hard; and trying to remain true to the language of the setting and time is hard! (It is not as if I thought it would actually be easy either!)

Couple of items:

-Thank you for all of your reviews, favorites, and follows - very helpful / motivating. I appreciate any constructive opinions.

-I am not fond of the title - it was a complete afterthought. The general idea of it will ring through though. I will not change it for the time being to avoid confusion.

-I am terrible at editing my own work. I will go back and fix typos if they are distracting. I will also have this professionally edited if it is good enough to self-publish.

-This and the next chapter was written as one, but I felt as if it was too long. Perhaps the first two chapters should have been one?

-This story will go off canon and out of character (only as it suits the purpose of my story).

* * *

Elizabeth was resolving to herself to put Mr. Darcy out of her mind as she pulled the worn silk close against her shoulders. It felt like a rose hip against her skin. Her father purchased her favorite wrap two years prior when business had required he go into town. When he presented it to her for her 18th birthday, he told her it reminded him sunshine and her. Elizabeth smiled at the comforting thought.

The dim orange in the grate did not do much for the coolness and darkness of the library. The handful of candles scattered about was no match for the vastness of the room and its many nooks perfect for hiding. The quantity of books housed in the many rows of shelves was disappointing, so much potential in such a room wasted. If it were Elizabeth's library, she would fill it with as many books as her pin money could afford her.

Even in her disappointment, the room did emit a calm that soothed her. It was not that dissimilar to the familiar smell of leather and furniture polish found in her father's study. It was a trying day for her. She had anxiety for her sister, annoyance at her mother, irritation at Miss Bingley, and no peace from Mr. Darcy. Why must he look at her like that throughout all of dinner? It took great restraint to not bring her hand from the table to her hair checking for an errant curl. She had thought for a moment that perhaps some pudding escaped her spoon and landed on the side of her mouth for him to stare at her so. She rolled her eyes and huffed at the memory of his cold look.

Her good breading dictated that she bear through his beastly manners and ignore him to the best of her ability, and she did so on the outside. Inside, she was a little amused but mostly angry. _Why must he mortify me so?_ It was surprising she could hold his attention for such a time, but it also induced uncharitable thoughts to know he looked at her in disdain. She knew he did not find her to have a pleasant appearance, and that hurt her. _No one wants to be not pretty._ The sting hit the pit of her stomach, and she instantly pushed it deeper until it was gone. Mrs. Bennet had for years expounded on Jane's classical beauty, her own regal beauty retained from youth, and Kitty and Lydia's emerging beauty. Even Mary was told there was a hidden attractiveness under the drab hair and gowns. But, her mother never really commented on Elizabeth's looks except to tell her to clean-up and make herself presentable. She never could reconcile this about her mother; except in this, she was really a kind, nurturing woman under all of those obnoxious nerves and outbursts. _Mother would have indeed needed the salts if she had seen me this morning!_ Elizabeth had to laugh at that thought. There really was no use in feeling self-pity, and she would certainly not let her mother or some pompous man induce her into it.

By the light of a candle in her hand, Elizabeth spotted and reached for a book titled _Songs on Innocence and of Experience_ that was resting on a small chaise in a tucked away corner. She was quite surprised to find something like this in the neglected collection offered by Netherfield's library. She had studied her father's volume of the same work and understood it to be very rare. She examined it to ensure it was not actually her fathers, although she could not credit him to lending it to any of the gentlemen residing in the house.

Elizabeth settled into the plushness of the chaise, put the candle down, and opened up the book to the page indicated with an intricately embroidered floral book marker. She gave that marker a skeptical review; there was no chance this book belonged to Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley despite the superior feminine cloth marking the verse. She seriously questioned both of those ladies' abilities to comprehend anything other than sheet music and fashion plates. Elizabeth decided she should not take the book from the library. It was rather someone's personal and quite valuable possession. Since she only needed a couple hours' diversion before returning to Jane, she settled into deep velvet. She hoped she would not fall asleep. The selection she had before her was captivating she knew, and hopefully enough so tonight to keep her awake. The imagery alone that accompanied each poem was deserving enough in its own right. Elizabeth read the marked verse before her, blushed, and then gave way to a purely academic pursuit of the meaning in the words and illustration.

 _I went to the Garden of Love,_

 _And saw what I never had seen:_

 _A Chapel was built in the midst,_

 _Where I used to play on the green._

 _And the gates of this Chapel were shut,_

 _And Thou shalt not. writ over the door;_

 _So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,_

 _That so many sweet flowers bore._

 _And I saw it was filled with graves,_

 _And tomb-stones where flowers should be:_

 _And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,_

 _And binding with briars, my joys & desires._

"Miss Bennet."

Her name was whispered quietly and hung in the coolness while the gentleman bowed. Miss Bennet, too stunned to stand and provide a curtsy, remained on the chaise wither her legs tucked under skirts and just stared wide-eyed back at the man before her.

Just minutes ago, Darcy padded into the library with letter in hand looking for a comfortable place to finish the rebuttal to his aunt. It was paramount to rectify any mistaken impressions his letter to Georgianna caused within his family. It need to be sent via express immediately in the morning.

 _Aunt Ellen,_

 _My thanks for your letter. I hope this finds you in good health. Please accept my gratitude for rallying around Georgie. It pains me to think of her in low spirits, but as you conveyed, I dare to hope she is regaining some of her contentment. I am sure Samuel and Tabitha are doing a fine job of distracting her. As far as playmates for them supplied by myself, that is an impossibility. There should be too much an age difference between my mischief-making cousins and any of my own spawn since I have no plans to marry anytime in the near future. And, if I did find someone to take on the task, it would be a long, long courtship before I fell into the marriage trap. As Richard can attest, we both value our bachelorhood over the alternative. (I thought to remind you in case you have forgotten since the last time I mentioned it.) I suggest stop wasting your time with me and direct your efforts elsewhere, your own son for perhaps? He is not as hopeless as you credit him. And, further, madam, how can you say such about your own children anyway? I suppose if he were my child, I would count him as hopeless too – you should promptly relay that I mentioned such. Clearly, he is in need of the management a wife can supply much more than I am. Please let him know I gladly transfer your list of wife material to him and will take no offence to him securing all your good attentions in such a pursuit thus leaving me none._

 _I would like to take the opportunity to clear up your grave misunderstanding. The lady I wrote of is no object for my affections, none at all. I was simply thinking her a possible friend for Georgie and wanted to express her beauty and talents so Georgie may feel at ease if I suggested a future acquaintance. There is nothing more. She does not enchant me or entice me to use this 'charm' you mentioned. It is just that she is the perfect example of everything a young woman should be while at the same time exuding a liveliness and brightness to cheer everyone in her presence, and I only was thinking of the benefit to my sister of such an example._ _To add credence to my claim of having no marital intent, I will tell you she is not quite of our station, although her father is the landowner of the estate abutting Netherfield. She is totally appropriate for a friend to Georgianna but entirely inappropriate_

Darcy could not finish the sentence; he crossed it out and then crumpled the sheet. _The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks_. He was feigning a calm he most definitely did not feel while trying to pen this letter. As frustrating as it was to think of his family conjecturing about his romantic life, he would require more composure than he currently felt to rebuff Aunt Ellen's suggestions.

As Darcy walked to consign the blasted evidence of his heart to the flames, he was distracted by a dark shadow quickly flickering against the wall. He walked beyond the shelves that blocked his view earlier from the desk to see what or who might be sharing the library with him so late in the night. In a small corner recess there was a woman, and he was arrested by the delicate form wrapped up in yellow fabric with his book on her lap.

Her eyes were closed and she was holding his sister's marker between her thumb and forefinger rubbing it gently.

He knew from the night he met her that he was in danger of her beauty drawing him in like a fly to honey. It was that second look in which he really understood what his eyes missed the first time, after insulting her no less. He cringed at the memory of the insult. He realized once he fully took her in that he was not only rude but very incorrect in his assessment. It was as if the gods were to punish him by striking her irresistible immediately after he decided she was not. It was a penance for his arrogant remark. Perhaps he had been an arse too many times in his life and deserving of punishment, because she was not only exactly as he would deem perfect in countenance, but she was perfection personified as shown in character and disposition. After only the second time in her company, he knew her to be everything he could ever hope for. Yet, he could not have her. If he were a papist, he might think himself in purgatory. She was a glimpse of heaven he was not allowed to touch. Some god somewhere was forcing him to pay every arrear of atonement for every sin he had ever committed in his life.

He flinched. This would not do – he was not a coward. There was no need for the sight of her to strike fear into his soul. His aunt did tell him he could be charming, did she not?

* * *

**The poem used in this chapter is by William Blake and called _The Garden of Love._ Two others mentioned in the next chapter are _The Lamb_ and _The Tyger_. _The Tyger_ has always been a favorite of mine. Like Austen, his stock has risen considerably after his death. He wasn't really known at the time.


	5. Chapter 5

Elizabeth opened her eyes in shock. There before her stood Mr. Darcy in house slippers and no jacket. His hair and cravat were equally rumpled. She moved her feet to the floor in an effort to escape.

"Please, you do not need to leave on my account."

She ceased her attempt to stand and just sat there with the book. Finally she found her courage. "Is this yours perhaps?"

"It is, but you are welcome to it." He was not sure if he should truly welcome her to it; it was not exactly scandalous, but he knew the themes were weighty and a touch inappropriate for an elegantly bred female. "It is quite obscure. The writer is not well known, but he is talented. His themes are heavy, and I find a lot of truth in his writing. It is not the usual selections of most young ladies such as yourself. But, if you would like to attempt to apply yourself to the study of this particular work, you might find it quite gratifying. Do you enjoy poetry?"

 _Of course he thinks me totally ignorant_. She was unwilling to give him credit that the author was truly not known and it very improbable that a country lady would know his works at all. "I suppose poetry is _tolerable_ and enough to _tempt_ me when nothing else is at hand. The pictures are quite lovely and all, but the words prove too much for my understanding. Perhaps you should explain the point of the words here so I might understand?" Elizabeth replied in a churlish tone.

He was taken aback; he had not a clue what warranted that response. He just looked at her. Her tight face finally softened. "May I sit, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth inhaled deeply at the request. She realized having a conversation in this setting was encroaching the line of propriety, but Mr. Darcy actually taking a seat on the chaise next to her in the middle of the night was tantamount to hurling cannonballs into decorum. She was, however, made of stern stuff and prided herself on not being missish.

"I suppose you may, sir. This is your book and your friend's couch; it is more your right than mine to sit here."

Darcy took a seat next to her, deliberately placing himself not too near or too far as to effect nonchalance.

"And, what sir is _your_ favorite picture?" She asked as she held open the book to him. Her foot was tapping and her color high.

"Well, I really am not drawn to the pictures as much as I am to the words. Though the illustrations are exquisite, I see them as more as lending to the effect of what the author writes."

 _Oh, what a supremely pompous arse_. With a flutter of her lashes and the falsest of smiles, she replied, "How enlightening, please do go on, sir."

He really was unsure of how he offended her, but he was certain he had. He was not sure if his quickened pulse and the sweat in his palm were due to her closeness or her rudeness of tone, or maybe it was the way she was batting her eye lashes up and down. He had to steady himself. In a manner colder than intended, he decided to stop her right there, "Pardon me if I have said something to cause your rudeness."

She could not believe the nerve of him – she most certainly was not the rude one. She stood in resentment. "Again, sir, I ask what is your favorite? I must say I am partial to _The Tyger_ and _The Lamb_. It is quite a paradox when considered together, is it not? I find comfort in thinking over it."

"You are familiar with the author, Miss Bennet?" He was clearly shocked and completely forgetting to apologize as he realized he may have been somewhat condescending.

"Indeed, I am. I may be a country miss, but the master of my education is one of the greatest Oxford scholars of his time, and I have access to information on every subject in which I wish to learn. My father has given me free reign over his library; even rare books written by obscure authors are available at my whim."

Proud of herself, she resumed her seat and went on to explain her opinion of the two poems while completely ignoring his wide eyes and raised brows that she could hardly discern in the limited candle light. "You see, when something around me happens that is tragic, sad, or unjust, I think about the fundamental question raised by the author in this collection and particularly shown by the two works I mentioned. William Blake asks a valid question. How can good and bad be both dealt by a creator? It is a question to which I am afraid there is no answer we mere mortals can understand, but I am reminded that both do in fact exist and together on this Earth. Even amidst a tyger, there is goodness lurking somewhere for me to find. "

Elizabeth could sense he had no words to respond, although an apology would be a good start. Perhaps he disapproved of her boldness of opinion, or perhaps he was impressed; she knew not.

She still held the book marker in her hands. "Is this one of your fine accomplishments, sir? You certainly aim to improve your mind by the choice of reading material; it is the most important accomplishment of all; but, do you have the other talents required to deserve the word? This piece of needle work is quite fine."

A dimple appeared and he held a calloused palm up close to her face. "Do you truly think this hand can command a small needle? I think not." He removed his hand. "My sister actually made it as a gift." He took it from her hand, lightly grazing her fingers with the tips of his own. He inched a little closer to show her how delicately his sister had stitched his initials into the ivy border.

"Ah, then she is quite the accomplished lady, I see. Her work is beautiful." Elizabeth's words were quietly said. The tightness in her chest at his closeness did not allow much air in or out. Her ire earlier was quickly replaced by something else unidentified but equally as strong. She had never been this close to a gentleman before or alone with one for this amount of time.

"The poem I have marked is one I have been pondering for a while - it brings my sister to the forefront of my mind." Mr. Darcy had a far way look to his eyes.

Elizabeth was a little taken aback and decided he surely interpreted the poem just a little differently than her as to have it bring to mind a younger sister.

He went on, "Georgianna is fifteen and no longer a child. I have a difficult time reconciling she must become aware of the world and the unpleasantness that sometimes accompanies coming of age."

She understood and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Lydia is the same age; and surely, as you have seen for yourself, you know I can understand how it is a difficult time for a younger sister and those around her."

He gave a tight smile and no other response. She decided to lighten the conversation.

"Now, of course, Jane and I, skipped over all of that unpleasantness and never caused my parents or other family any worries." She laughed and he gave her a sidelong glance. "Well, perhaps that is not entirely true. But, if I made it from unruly fifteen year old to a young woman relatively unscathed, then I imagine your sister will as well. You obviously care for her, and that will guide her."

It was not possible for him to feel any more than he did. She stunned him with her intelligence and then calmed him with her compassion. He must speak though, so he could have a reason to continue in her presence.

"When I came upon you, you seemed to be in contemplation. Where you thinking of the poem or of _your_ sister. How is she faring?"

She was surprised at his wanting to know of her thoughts. Such conversation was not supposed to happen between an unmarried gentleman and lady. She supposed she had crossed the line when she allowed his presence, so what more damage could be done?

"Thank you for asking. My sister's fever seemed to peak earlier, so I think she is now on her way to recovery. A maid is tending to her now, and I will go back to her soon." She decided to venture further on the poem she had read. She loved discussing literature with her father, and she found it quite enjoyable to do so with another as well.

"As far as what I was thinking on when you interrupted," she gave him an arch look; "I was considering the author's point of view on society, the church, and human nature. Life has limitless opportunities for enjoyment and pleasure. But society's dictates are erected, endorsed, and even created by the institution of religion to stunt what human nature naturally tries to achieve – the pleasure of life itself. As one grows older, so does the requirement to break away from the flowers and take on some briars. While I appreciate all that is dutiful, good, and moral, I cannot think God intended it all to be so constricting as to limit even innocent joy."

He was stunned and could not help but stare into her eyes. He felt hot, trapped by his skin. The intensity of what he felt with her sitting next to him and listening to her thoughts overwhelmed him to a point he felt sickenly anxious, but oh, so happy. This was a woman who understood him. She eventually looked down at her hands holding the book, and he felt a little bereft when her gaze left him. "I cannot help but to agree with you. I take my duty seriously as any man, perhaps more seriously than most men. But, I feel strangled by the briars too." He barely choked out the last part.

His body acted of its own accord with nothing his mind could do to stop him. He leaned over to close the small gap and kissed her cheek. He could feel her stiffen; he had too. Inhaling the scent of her skin, he left his mouth where it was. This caused her head to lift up, and he moved his own lips from her cheek to her mouth. Every moment next to her was better and better. Neither moved; he did not want the power of her lips to be anywhere but where they were. When he felt her shudder, he pulled away just so slightly.

When he dared to open his eyes, he was moved by what he saw. Elizabeth's expressive face was serious but content as if she were delirious. When she finally lifted her lashes from her cheeks to look back at him, it was the work of a moment before they met each other fervently with kiss after kiss.

Darcy was clueless about what to do with his hands, but he ached to touch her skin. He grazed her shoulder with his fingertips over her shawl and pulled it down to expose the exposed flesh of her arm, and she seemed to lean into his touch. Her skin was the softest thing he had ever touched. As he lightly caressed back up her shoulder on to her neck, she let out a small gasp. He eventually felt the warmth of her hand grasp his upper arm through his thin shirt sleeve. Her touch drove all remaining thought from him, and he embraced her pulling her to him as best they could manage on the chaise still sitting up.

He had no idea how to control himself – his senses were engulfed by the feel and smell of her. He ached to taster her. He tentatively opened him mouth and gently tasted her lips. _The sweetest taste_. She responded by parting her lips, and before he knew it, his tongue was exploring her mouth as hers was his.

He thought he may die of bliss if he did not do something, so he moved his mouth to the corner of hers, then her jaw, and her ear, and then her neck. His hands explored every inch of her arms, shoulders and back. As he was kissing her collar bone, he felt her hand come up to his face. At this point, she was leaned back against the chaise and while still technically sitting, he was practically atop of her.

He felt like he could kiss her forever and not be satisfied. Her satin hands on his face and in his hair was beyond his limit. "Oh, Elizabeth," he uttered.

Those two words and the spell was broken.

She immediately froze, and seeing her reaction to him calling out her name, Darcy sat up fully and was also still. Neither had words. He had to think of something.

"Pray forgive me. You did not give me permission to use your Christian name."

Elizabeth arched a brow at this and blinked rapidly as if disbelieving his apology. "How am I not surprised; what a gentleman." she whispered to herself just under his hearing.

"Pardon me?"

"It is nothing. Pray forget it. Pray forget this… this whole… whatever this was."

Her face was red and not from a blush; the last thing he wanted her to feel was shame. Did they not feel similar about the poem? Did they not agree they should not be bound by constricting dictates? Perhaps not. Very well, he was a gentleman, and he knew his duty.

"Madam, please do not feel as any of this is your fault. My apologies for getting so carried away. It is late, and I enjoyed the conversation. Let there be no blame for what happened. And, I am an honorable man; of course, we shall marry."

She got up and started to walk away before he knew what was happening. She then quickly turned and marched up to where he still sat with fire shooting from her eyes. "Mr. Darcy! While I assure you I have never participated in this kind of behavior and only expect to in the future with my future husband, I can promise you that I am not so missish that I cannot put this out of my mind forever and forget it ever occurred. I see no witnesses around. You need not to worry on my behalf of being called into some imaginable duty of marrying me. I am only tolerable after all. However, I am not to be trifled with. Please in the future direct your passion elsewhere."

Darcy felt as if a pistol was fired directly to his heart. How could this have happened? How could any of it have happened? Look up at her in her full righteous anger, he could force nothing out of his mouth at that moment. He hated she had heard his insult, and he hated he had so upset her. He towered before her after rising from the chaise to look down into her eyes. He could see the tears unshed.

"Madam, please accept my sincerest apologies – for everything. I comprehend your feelings. But, allow me to clear one matter in particular." He cupped her face with the lightest touch of his hand. He whispered, "please allow me to tell you that you are so beautiful it is almost painful not to reach out and experience it for myself. You are more than tempting, and in every way – mind and body. Do not think otherwise."

He then reached his head down and kissed her hair and then her lips as tenderly and briefly as he could find it within himself to do. And then, he walked away.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews – they are very encouraging. I will say I am looking forward to the next chapter very much. This one was more difficult to write. And, I have decided to give up on caring about chapter lengths. I'll work that out later. This one is longer - brevity is not a strength. Enjoy, and all of your feedback is appreciated!

* * *

Elizabeth closed the heavy door and slid to the floor with her slippers in front of her. Her fight for composure before she left the library had taken everything out of her. She still wanted to scream, cry, and perhaps even smile at all the same time. Such a warring set of emotions running through her chest was overcoming at best.

"Miss Elizabeth, is something the matter; are you feeling ill?"

Elizabeth looked up at the maid blankly and said nothing in response. _Something like it I suppose_ , she thought to herself. Rebecca, half-asleep, startled awake in concern and started to rise from her chair when the miss said nothing.

Elizabeth let out a sigh. "Rebecca, please forgive me. I am just overly tired and wishing my sister were better so we could be home. I am fine. Please, do go on to your bed. I will be staying with Jane tonight. Is she improved?"

Upon being satisfied that Jane had been the same as she left her a couple of hours previous, Elizabeth quietly thanked the maid for her care and saw her out of the room.

Elizabeth felt her sister's cheeks and thought they were much cooler than a couple of hours ago, but still very warm. She moved the chair as close to bed as possible and sank down. How she missed her bed at home with a healthy Jane to share. Her sister was her comfort, and if she ever needed some, it was now. Elizabeth placed her head on the bed as close to Jane as she could and held her hand as she closed her eyes. Before she could fall asleep, her sister spoke.

"Lizzy?" Elizabeth just squeezed her hand. "Dearest, what is wrong?"

"Oh, Jane." It was said so quietly with a quaver of emotion that Jane was immediately worried. The two girls knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves.

"Please tell me how I may ease you, sister?"

Elizabeth shoved her emotions back to that secret hiding pace somewhere in the pit of her stomach. This was not the time or place for such a revealing discussion. "I am only tired. It is the middle of the night. I want you to be well. Please go back to sleep. And, no, I will not leave you. I am perfectly fine where I am."

Jane gave a small laugh under her slightly labored breath. Of course they could practically read each other's thoughts – Elizabeth knew Jane would try to make her find comfort in her own bed. Likewise, Jane also knew there was something greater weighing on her sister's mind than just her own illness. Jane decided the topic, herself, and Elizabeth should rest until tomorrow.

"Sister, I will not try to convince you otherwise then. Do not complain to me if you have an aching neck in the morning." Jane took as deep of a breath as she could before coughing. "Good night love, and we shall resume this conversation in the morning." She provided comfort by tucking Elizabeth's hair behind her ear as she always did when the younger sister was upset.

Elizabeth was grateful for her sister and decided there was nothing to be gained by examining her feelings tonight. She would do it tomorrow, or maybe she would be so fortunate as to wake up and find it had all been a dream. Both women quickly found their troubled sleep.

XXXXXX

"Darcy, are you coming down to break your fast?" Bingley stepped into his friend's guest chamber.

"I suppose I am. You know, you would be a farthing richer had you taken me up on fencing this morning. Brooks easily would have run me through had it not been only practice."

"Well, it is unfortunate I missed out. Hopefully you will rouse me the next time you feel like you can be bested?" Bingley laughed at himself. "So, did Brooks' skill drastically improve, or has yours declined?"

"I'm afraid my mind was not in it this morning. As I've told you so many times in your feeble attempts at the sport, it is as much a mental challenge as a physical one with skill."

"Just what has your mental capacity affecting your performance? Too many beautiful women in one house? I tell you that is affecting my mental capacity."

Darcy wanted to knock the silly grin off Bingley's pretty face. "Surely not." Darcy winced a little on how gruff he sounded. It was not his friend's fault he was such a prideful, lustful rake of a man last night, and Darcy realized he should not take it out on him either. He needed to be alone.

"I believe, Bingley, there is only one woman in this house that has you acting more than the fool you usually are." Darcy tried to inject a lightness into the conversation. He was not about to share his burdens or have them guessed at. He hoped he deflected the question at hand well enough.

Darcy continued, "Would you mind if we put off our sport until another time? I realized there is an acquaintance of mine not above fifteen miles from here, and it is a good day for a long ride. Would your sisters mind if I made myself scarce? Chances are I would not return until after supper." Darcy hated with every fiber of his being that he was deceiving his friend. He saw no alternative but to leave the house for the day unless he could manage to quit it all together, and that he could not do just yet as much as he wished to.

"Caroline will be none too pleased, but you are your own man. I find I would need to delay our shooting anyway. Mrs. Bennet is to come check on Jane today, as is Mr. Jones. I will need to be here to receive them, and I am most anxious for an update on Jane. Is it wrong to want her to just be a fraction too ill to return home? Although, I would also wish her well enough to be comfortable. I hate the idea of her suffering."

Darcy rolled his eyes, "you may be the most absurd man I know. With Stephen and Richard for cousins, that means quite a lot."

"Better to be absurdly happy than sensibly unhappy. At least you will escape Mrs. Bennet this morning." Bingley gave Darcy a slab on the back. "Although, I care not one jot about her ramblings. She obviously loves her daughters, and that is a virtue."

"Seriously, Bingley, virtue or not, could you imagine having to live with that unmuzzled prattle-box for the rest of our lives as a mother-in-law? Do not punish yourself because you cannot control your whims over some woman." Darcy felt immediate horror and some guilt after what he just said. If Elizabeth had been any other woman, she would have jumped at the chance last night to tie Mrs. Bennet to him as a mother-in-law. He was a complete idiot.

Bingley schooled his features immediately wondering if Darcy knew what he just said. He obviously did not. He did need feel the need to surreptitiously advise his friend though. "I do care about Miss Bennet, and a great deal more than any other woman I have been infatuated with. I freely admit that if I were lucky enough to earn the love of a woman like that, I would not care for what my mother-in-law was or what my family would think. I would follow my own path as quickly as I could if the lady's feelings allowed me to. Let us eat; I am famished."

XXXXXX

Elizabeth's spoon full of marmalade was mid-air when it fell it fell to the table along with her eyes.

"Miss Elizabeth, are you well?" Bingley hurried to her side as Darcy turned on his heel and walked back out the door.

"I am, sir. Pray excuse me." She focused on cleaning the spilled fruit off the table as best she could. With her eyes down, she could see she Mr. Darcy walk back to the hallway and stand there outside the open door.

"We certainly did not mean to startle you, did we Darcy? Bingley looked up. "Darcy?" Bingley looked around for his friend and saw him enter the room again taking notice to the reddened cheeks of both the other inhabitants. He decided to pocket away that observation, along with Darcy's earlier slip of the tongue, for later consideration to focus on the situation at hand.

Mr. Darcy spoke before Bingley could. "Good morning Miss Bennet." He bowed quickly but did not move to take his seat.

After Elizabeth did not look up and continued wiping at the table as if she did not hear his friend, Bingley took a seat at the table. "Miss Elizabeth, please do not worry about the cover; it will not stain. How is your sister this morning?"

In this Elizabeth could focus. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head with all the bravery she could find and smiled at Mr. Bingley. "I do believe she is taking a turn for the better, sir. My mother and Mr. Jones should be here later this morning to give us their opinions as well."

"Very good, I am much pleased that she doesn't suffer as she did yesterday. I will be hoping for a good report, although I am glad for her to be ill here as long as she likes. She is most welcome." Darcy and Elizabeth both quirked an eyebrow at this, although one had a much more mirthful expression. Bingley had the good grace to blush and stammered, "well, not that I wish her to still be ill."

Elizabeth laughed, "Mr. Bingley, I know what you meant, and I appreciate the hospitality of you and your sisters very much."

Elizabeth's laugh proved to be too much for Mr. Darcy, and to top that, he heard Caroline coming toward the breakfast parlor. He grimaced, "Bingley, I will be off now."

"Are you not going to eat something before you go?"

"I will stop by the kitchens on my way to the stable." He bowed and walked hurriedly out of the room.

"Please forgive my friend, Miss Elizabeth. I think he is having a trying morning. I will tell you a secret. He did some fencing earlier, and the outcome was not in his favor. He gets out of sorts and is particularly awful when he loses." He gave her a laughing smile in hopes to ease her obvious discomfiture.

Elizabeth was just glad he left. His presence for even a couple of minutes was enough to make her to want the floor to open her up and swallow her whole. No wonder he also felt the need to leave; she was sure his behavior had much more to do with her presence after such a debacle in the library than losing some fencing match. She blushed at the thought of what happened last night for seemingly the thousandth time and felt a need to escape just as he had. _Is he quitting Netherfield completely?_ Miss Bingley's voice brought her back from her thoughts.

"Charles, is that not calling the kettle black? You may hide it under a smile, but we know you detest losing just as much. Do not criticize your friend so. And, where did Mr. Darcy go off to this morning? Why is he not sitting down with us? He made no prior mention of leaving us today."

"He had some business suddenly come up with a friend this morning; his estate is not too far off from here. Darcy will not return until later this evening. It truly is no concern of yours, Caroline."

Caroline gave Elizabeth an accusatory look which caused some annoyance. Elizabeth shook off her earlier embarrassment and met Miss Bingley's look with a questioning one of her own, as if Miss Bingley should know there was a probability his sudden departure for the day might have something to do with her and their actions last night.

Elizabeth was struck with a realization of what Miss Bingley's reaction might be if she truly did know about the events of last night and that they likely drove Mr. Darcy from the house. Even in her mortification over her wanton behavior driving him away, Elizabeth could not help some strange gratification and amusement in imagining Miss Bingley's face after the knowledge that Mr. Darcy was just every bit as culpable as she was. She could see Miss Bingley fanning herself and then fainting straight away. She laughed in her head at the image; that thought then faded to Miss Bingley chasing her with claws extended and screeching unladylike obscenities. She shuddered at that. _Better not provoke the shrew's ire_.

Miss Bingley continued as Mrs. Hurst nodded along. "Mr. Darcy is a guest here, and as hostess, I should be concerned about his comings and goings," she harrumphed.

Elizabeth wanted to be around these people no longer. "Mr. Bingley, thank you for breakfast and your concern in asking after Jane's health. It is a complement to you as host. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, good morning to you, and as you have shown your concern over Mr. Darcy, I am sure you are equally concerned for your other guests, and I will tell you before you have the opportunity to ask – Jane is doing a little better. If you will excuse me now." Elizabeth smiled sweetly at the ladies. "I will be in the garden for a quick stroll. I am sure you will be kind enough to send someone for me after my mother and Mr. Jones arrives. You have my appreciation in advance."

Elizabeth gave a quick curtsey and left the room.

"She is all insolence! Of course we were about to ask about dear Jane." Caroline rolled her eyes at her sister.

Mrs. Hurst replied, "I agree. How Miss Bennet can be all sweetness and her sister be so uncivilized? If she would not have dashed from the table to go traipse in the mud, of course we would have inquired as to Jane. Although, I hate to hold it against the sister, perhaps we would do well to exercise such caution around Miss Bennet. I am sure some of that impertinence rubs off; look at the other sisters for goodness sake."

Bingley threw his napkin to the table and abruptly rose to his feet sending the sound of wood scraping wood into the room. "I expect you to alert me and Miss Elizabeth when her mother arrives. And, I expect the pair of you to act with every grace toward them. Caroline, I will remind you that your ability to act as a respectable hostess here directs your future as I was serious in my threat. I expect absolutely none of your underhanded ways or rude speech to guests in my home. The pair of you have said enough, and I will no longer tolerate it."

XXXXXX

Elizabeth went into the east garden to feel the sunshine on her face. She needed something to lift her spirits, and she would not find that inside the house, not with her sister sleeping and still ill. Her mother was due to arrive soon, and she needed to resolve her feelings over the previous night and attempt to discern Mr. Darcy's character.

She knew she could only be responsible for herself, so that is where she should start. But, where to start?

When Mr. Darcy appeared before her last night, she knew the right thing to do was to excuse herself immediately. She was always taught it was improper to be in a gentleman's company alone. She did not have to be taught it was especially wrong in a dark, secluded room after midnight.

He presented an opportunity that she longed for – intimate conversation with an intelligent man that was not her father. She knew she should not be, but she was nevertheless disappointed that men were allowed to do as they please, talk to whomever they please, and especially learn as they please. She imagined experiencing the freedom her father had as a young man at university while discussing and debating literature and politics with other able minds. She loved her father and was ever so grateful that he gave her a solid education and encouraged her to have her own ideas. But, debating the same mind the past ten years had made her yearn for more.

She knew Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were intelligent young men, and she had heard they were quite celebrated as having fine debate skills among other things. Mr. Darcy's turn of mind seemed to invoke her own thought as she had talked, or rather mostly argued with him at several gatherings in the neighborhood since his friend took the lease a little over a month ago.

The chance to prove her intelligence to such a man without the limitations of drawing room etiquette was too good a prospect to pass up. And, that he seemed just as keen to speak with her was a balm to her wounded vanity. When his manner became open, she could not break away from the conversation. He had drawn her in somehow, and she was completely weak. She started the conversation with him in wanting to prove her intelligence, and she ended it with him practically seducing her. She had proven nothing at all but to be a weak female taken in by a man.

Unwittingly, the feeling of his lips on her skin though flooded through her body, and she could not help the feeling of tingling all the way down to her toes and burning everywhere. It was all too confusing that something so very wrong feel so natural. If he would not have spoken her name and brought her back from the euphoric place he sent her to, she wondered how far she would have let him go. Elizabeth had a good idea of where such things could lead as her father did not restrict her reading material and the matronly gossip overflowed with the wine.

Would she have let him touch her in other places than just the places he caressed her last night? She hated to admit the thought even now still thrilled her. Who imagined a touch from a man's hands on a place as innocent as an arm could render her senseless? And when she returned his touch and felt his powerful body, she imagined she became another being entirely – completely irrational and only wanting the sensations to continue.

Why did it have to be _him_ that thrilled her, and why did it have to be now? Could she not have waited to experience that with her husband? She had always wanted to marry for deep love and respect. Did she owe all of her intimate experiences to one man, even the ones of last night? Society and the church said yes.

She thought back to Blake's poem. _Thou shalt not_. That statement was there in her mind now lording over all she felt just moments ago while remembering his touch.

Mr. Darcy's understanding seemed to match her own in the library. He seemed to agree with her that there were moral and societal codes that impeded pleasure both physical and otherwise, and he seemed to agree that perhaps those codes were a trifle too limiting based on his actions.

Now that she had a taste of the physical pleasure, she could not help to think it was perhaps a good thing there were strictures to tamp it down, because she was going to be driven to bedlam if she had to dwell on this any longer. She was guilty of being wanton, and so was he. Perhaps her father let her read too much poetry?

She decided with that thought, she would accept that she was human and lessen the guilt about what actually happened. It was in the past and done. She was still a virtuous woman. She would not allow the world's expectations take away the pleasure she felt. She would also not dwell on it and know that in time with marriage, she could experience that again.

Mr. Darcy himself and her feelings toward that man were an entirely other matter to contend with. She did not love him or even feel affection for him. _I hardly know the man!_ He did confound her, and she did think of him often with all kinds of mixed feelings she could name – anger for his rudeness to all she loved, disdain for his pride, admiration for his person and intelligence, disgust at his arrogance and conceit, understanding for the way he spoke of his sister, compassion for being the subject of much gossip, jealousy in his freedom being a man, and lust for the way his arm felt under shirt as he was using it to cradle her neck as he kissed her.

Since she had laid eyes on Mr. Darcy the first night at the assembly, he held a place in her mind – usually a dark and maddening place. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen before, and now she knew he felt similarly about her. She almost liked him better when she thought him to only think her tolerable. It was a horrible thing to think, but it was to much to deal with the ramifications otherwise.

Her beautiful? She felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach at the thought and was disappointed in herself for even feeling such about herself. Why did he have to say such a thing? Why could she not accept it? She had gone her whole life knowing she was nothing so special. Yes, she was witty, smart, well read, and well.., and well tolerable. But being called beautiful by a man such as Mr. Darcy provided a whole new level of consideration. Being called beautiful in both mind and body by his strong, velvet voice would mean many conceptions about herself were wrong. She recalled the feel of her knees buckling and being reduced to a puddle of sobs last night before she went back to Jane's room; she was not equipped as well as she presumed herself to be in the face of such powerful sentiments. She wished she had more conceit as to expect such compliments, so the thought of his words and the implications could not unsettle her so.

His greatest offense against her last night, and the one that caused her to regret all that happened, was that he implied marriage. _I am an honorable man; of course, we shall marry._

That he could just all out demand it made her fume. They obviously had much different thoughts on what should precipitate marriage. In her mind, she would be courted, fall in love, be asked in a proper fashion, and most importantly to her, have the occasion of choice – to accept or decline. She would choose her own path in life, and she would choose it well. She would choose to love a man who would respect her above all others, challenge her mind, encourage her love of learning, give her partnership in the home, and love her with abandon. Except for challenging her mind, she did not see Mr. Darcy fitting her of ideals whatsoever as a marital partner.

She refused to be forced on the matter. That he simply proclaimed they would marry was certainly trying to force the matter, and over what, a kiss that got out of control? Passionate feelings of the moment? Her life would not be defined over a moment… or, rather several moments.

That he assumed her compliance was further proof he did not know her at all. She could not marry a man that did not know her true nature. She needed to be sure the man she married would accept her as she was with all of her hoydenish ways and liberal ideals.

Most of all, he impugned her honor by declaring his. He was an honorable man, so of course marriage was the only recourse for what they had done. Surely, he must think her dishonorable by refuting it. To her, honor was holding fast to her ideals and not letting the work of an hour cause a life of unhappiness and regret.

"Miss Bennet!"

Elizabeth looked up. A footman, seeming quite out of breath, was calling after her. How did she wonder so far from the house? She looked around and saw only empty tree branches and their fallen leaves covering the ground. Somehow she escaped the garden while in her thoughts.

"I was summoned to fetch you. Your mother and the apothecary has arrived."

"Oh, of course, I will hurry back. My apologies you had to hurry all this way to fine me. I was not paying attention."

The footman bowed and scurried off ahead of her.

She picked up her pace not wanting to leave her mother too long alone with Jane. Poor Jane did not need to be lectured on the arts of capturing a husband while in her sickbed.

Elizabeth gave one last thought to all she considered and decided she needed to be done. It was as her father would sometimes say about mistakes. "The past is what it is. Learn from it, and try not to repeat it _."_ She thought to do just that – it was good advice from a good man. She prayed she would heed it.

As she entered the garden again, Elizabeth decided some entertainment was just the thing to restore her equanimity. And that it should come at the expense of observing her mother and sisters' behavior in the presence of the Bingley sisters, mortification was a small price to pay. Mrs. Bennet's flutterings and inane conversation were always to be depended upon for comedic relief during times to stress, so as long as Elizabeth could keep it check when in company. As an added benefit, Mr. Darcy would not be there to witness her shame.

XXXXXX

"Louisa, can you imagine a ball? Here? How are we to endure hosting such society?" Caroline grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her into the closest room. To say Miss Bingley was vexed at Mrs. Bennet's visit was an understatement.

"The little chit just up and asked for a ball. I could not believe my ears at the impertinence. Clearly none of the lot have been taught acceptable behavior. _Our_ mother would have never stood for such." Mrs. Hurst commiserated with her sister.

They walked further into the library to gain some privacy so they could vent their frustrations in as vigorous language as they felt.

"And to think they are called the beauties of the county. They are just pretty enough to fall victim to some rake of a soldier. You know the younger two are just ruin waiting to happen."

"Caroline, dear. So brutal you are."

"Well, you know my preference for speaking the truth. Do not deny it. One of those girls is bound to ruin whatever sliver of reputation that family has. And to think just because they are technically gentry makes them better than us? What nonsense!"

"We will have to host this ball. Charles will enforce it."

"Correction, I will have to host this ball. As a true optimist, Darcy will at least see my value as the future mistress to Pemberley. If Charles wants to host a ball for these forsaken people, then it will be the finest to which any of these bumpkins have been invited. At least my talents will not be hidden."

Caroline adjusted herself on the chaise as she spoke to her sister. She heard a crumple and reached in not so ladylike fashion under her skirt to see what she had set upon. She flattened out the paper and read what appeared to be a half-written letter in a fine, masculine hand.

"Caroline, what is it?" Louisa was genuinely concerned over her sister's horrified expression.

Caroline handed the parchment to Louisa. "Read."


	7. Chapter 7

JANE ROUSED A LITTLE as she felt something very much like drool on her hand.

Elizabeth quickly jolted upright as she felt her sister's hand move next to her cheek. She had fallen asleep hunched over the bed sitting in an arm chair while holding Jane's hand, praying and thinking about all that had happened since coming to Netherfield Park.

"Lizzy, you must get some rest in your own room tonight. You are so tired. It would not do for you to also become ill."

"I will be fine. I did not mean to fall asleep. It has just been such a day, and sleep seemed the best escape. You seem to be improving, albeit slowly. How are you feeling?"

"Indeed, I am feeling a bit better. The rest and all the usual remedies seem to be adding to my improvement."

Elizabeth stood up to fluff some pillows and help Jane readjust to a sitting position. Jane studied her sister closely as she was being fussed over. The dark circles under Elizabeth's eyes, the absence of the usual ever-present smile, and the barely discernable slump in posture indicated her sister was plagued with more than just want of sleep.

"My dearest Lizzy, you might as well sit and be out with it. I will take a guess that our mother's visit was a trial? Although, as much as her manner can be difficult to bear, I was so glad to have her sit with me for a while. Even at two and twenty, I still crave mother's affection when I do not feel my best."

Elizabeth gave her a half-smile. "I dare say I understand. As much as I would like to silence her at times, there are just as many times when her embrace is the comfort I need. I suppose it will always be that way, a mother's love and all that. However, today I particularly wanted to throw her out of this house along with our ridiculously ill-behaved sisters."

"I truly am sorry this situation has placed such a strain on us, but I have the impression there is something else that has you in such a morose mood. What had you so wretched last night? Please tell me. I will assist you in any possible way I can, even if that means we go back to Longbourn this instant. I hate to see you so upset, and I fear that you are very unhappy here."

Elizabeth walked about the room deciding how much she should share with her sister but not imagining how to speak aloud of her very first kiss. Oh, it was so much more than just a single kiss. Her resolve to move past the previous night was immediately gone as her mind drifted back to being in _his_ arms last night.

Jane interrupted Elizabeth's reverie. "Sister, I asked if you are well. You seem peaked; please, come sit and talk to me." Jane's concern was evident.

"No, no, I was just thinking on the visit earlier with Mother and the girls. It was completely mortifying." She laughed a slight laugh recalling Mr. Bingley's dropped jaw and wide eyes when asked directly by Lydia for a ball at Netherfield. "Actually sister, I suppose it was not too terrible. After all, Lydia wrangled a private ball out of Mr. Bingley. It was badly done on her part, and Mother just looked on as if nothing untoward was occurring. The look on his face was just too much – I did not know whether to laugh or run out of the room for all the shame I felt in having such relations. Poor Mr. Bingley was so surprised at being asked in such a forthright manner that he agreed immediately, and after a moment, he seemed rather pleased about the whole affair. He is so kind and good. How he can have such a proud, conceited friend and ill-mannered sisters is beyond me."

"Lizzy, come now. I agree Mr. Bingley is maybe the best gentleman I have ever met, but does his friend and family truly deserve such censure? Was Mr. Darcy there to witness our family's display?"

"No. He was not. He apparently had some business that took him away for the day, thank goodness." Elizabeth stopped her pacing and brought her hands to her cheeks and closed her eyes. "Oh, Jane, I must tell you – "

Elizabeth's near confession was halted as two over-dressed peacocks, one being their hostess, entered the room.

"Oh, Jane, daring, please say you are well! Louisa and I can hardly tolerate you being so ill. We are in great debt to your sister here for entertaining us in your absence, but we do so long for your company. Are you sure you cannot join us downstairs for supper this evening or perhaps afterward?"

Elizabeth was standing behind Mr. Bingley's sisters so that only her sister could see the involuntary eye-roll induced by such fawning over _darling_ Jane.

Elizabeth stepped up to both women and inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Miss Bingley, I am afraid you will be in even greater debt to me as Mr. Jones suggested my sister remain in bed. However, I assure you, it is no hardship to share your company for another evening. Our conversations are so very instructive and stimulating." Elizabeth thought it a sin to prevaricate in such a way and with such a false smile. However, good manners dictated Elizabeth be somewhat gracious in her speech, although it was a trial to keep a straight face while speaking to Miss Bingley as she was decked out in her obnoxious finery. The bright purple silk dress, tall multi-colored feather headdress, and gaudy green jewels somewhat resembled a jester. _If she wears this during the light of day, what can we expect this evening?_ Elizabeth shuddered.

Jane gave her sister a slightly chastising look that was lost on Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst; only a very few people could read the subtlety of Jane's different expressions among company. _How does Jane know my mind so? I will do better._

Before Elizabeth could make amends, Jane spoke up. "Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, I long to return to your company as well. Thank you for asking over my health; I am feeling better and in no little part to your wonderful care. I hope perhaps on the morrow I may join you at some point later in the day. While you are here, I must thank you for your reception of my mother and sisters today. Your kindness to me and my family is not overlooked, I promise."

Caroline was greatly disappointed that Miss Jane Bennet was still too ill to leave her rooms. The sooner she could be out of bed, the sooner she and her sister could leave Netherfield. Either way, Caroline had the at least the strange comfort of knowing Elizabeth Bennet was perhaps not so much in her way as she thought – obviously admired (which did not settle well at all) but completely i _nappropriate_. It could be much worse considering all circumstances.

Mrs. Hurst entered the conversation and motioned to the stack of books she just moments ago placed on a side table. "Caroline was kind enough to select a few books from the library this afternoon. We hope these can aide in your entertainment while being confined to your rooms."

Miss Bingley turned towards her perceived rival, "Eliza, we know what a great reader you are, so we brought a few books for you to read aloud to your sister as you both pass the time. Please let us know if you prefer something different, and we will do our best to accommodate your lauded tastes. Although our library is somewhat meager, I daresay there are plenty of unexpected treasures of great interest." Caroline's smirk was lost on Jane, and Elizabeth innocently supposed an allusion to the conversation the previous night concerning accomplishments, preferring books to cards, and the state of Mr. Bingley's library.

Caroline turned to the younger of her guests and asked, "Will you be joining us for supper, or will you take a tray in here?"

Before Elizabeth could respond that a tray would be just the thing, Jane urged her sister to join the rest of the house for dinner.

"We will leave you to dress. Do get well sweet friend." With a pat of the hand, Miss Bingley left the Bennet sisters in a flourish of skirts, and Mrs. Hurst padded behind.

As soon as the door closed, the ladies walked down the hall to their rooms while trying to keep the exhilaration over what they just stealthily accomplished out of their unladylike steps.

MR. DARCY TOOK A FORTIFYING breath and let it out slowly as he crossed into the iron gates of Netherfield Park.

It had been two long rides and too much business for just nine hours. He was not looking forward to facing his friend or his friend's family after fleeing their home for the day, and he most certainly was not ready to face _her_. The day had been a degree successful in that Darcy was able to order some of his thoughts and come to a resolution, but the reasonable side of his mind was still having a difficult time completely capitulating to the decisions he had made. _How can something so impulsive and unsuitable feel like the right path for my life?_

"Please give Harry some extra oats and long rub down after his walk. It has been a strenuous day." Darcy gave the reins over to the waiting groom and walked toward the servant's entrance of the house hoping to escape the view of anyone who would call him to supper or the drawing room.

Just an hour previous, the sun had set on a day that started off in such confusion and turmoil. Darcy was weary not only emotionally but physically as he pushed his stallion hard in trying to race the darkness on his ride back to Netherfield. He wanted only a warm bath to sooth his aching muscles and his bed to sooth his tumultuous mind.

He made his way up the back stairs not meeting a soul until he entered his chamber and greeted his awaiting valet.

"Mr. Darcy, it is good to see you, sir. Would you like me to call for a tray and hot water, sir?"

"Yes, thank you, it would be much appreciated."

As Darcy was being helped out of his clothes, Darcy thought it better to let his Valet know where he had been all day; he was going to hear one way or another.

"Mr. Johnson, I would like you to know I was in London today and at Darcy House. I am sure you will learn it from Mrs. Ellis soon enough. Also, please know that Burk will be here in a few days' time to deliver a piece of jewelry, a ring to be exact, that I sent for inspection and repair. I would ask that you put it with the other valuables and not speculate with Mrs. Ellis when she writes of my other requests today, for I have no doubt she will write you directly."

Mr. Johnson bristled and replied, "of course, you have no need for concern on my part, sir." He hurried off to the dressing room immediately. Darcy did not imagine the dressing room door shutting slightly louder than usual.

Darcy smiled for the first time that day in satisfaction to get a rare reaction from the older man. He was sure his valet was keen enough to guess the significance of what he just relayed and was probably put out by the request not to gossip. Mr. Johnson knew how to get information from other servants, but he fiercely protected his master through and through. _Maybe that was not quite fair_ _of me_.

His smile faded as he considered asking advice of his valet. Even though his father treated this man a confident at one time, Darcy could not bring himself to talk of his new situation yet to anyone. Perhaps he would write Richard and request a visit – Darcy was in desperate need of perspective.

Later as he laid upon the bed to let sleep take him, he finally allowed a smidgen of potential happiness to chase away some of the looming doubt – tomorrow he would figure out how to court Elizabeth Bennet with the most honorable of intentions.

THE SUBJECT OF DARCY'S THOUGHTS was in route to her sister's room after quite a trying evening.

While Elizabeth was initially glad Mr. Darcy had not yet returned and therefore unable to join their party, she reversed her position about midway through the meal. Caroline's droning and constant questions to Mr. Bingley pertaining to Mr. Darcy's whereabouts were enough to make Elizabeth wish for the embarrassment of seeing the man again in exchange for a moment's peace.

Finally Mr. Bingley had taken his sister aside once in the drawing room, and then no more was said about the gentleman. However, the annoying lamentations were replaced by petulance – Miss Bingley said little and glared at everyone save Mrs. Hurst.

After her scolding, the only direct conversation Miss Bingley posed to Elizabeth was in asking if she had a chance to look over the books left in Jane's rooms earlier that afternoon. And after providing a negative answer, Caroline's manor became more agitated, and she suggested that Elizabeth look though them as soon as possible as to relay if the selections were to her liking. It was all very strange, and Elizabeth was happy when her chance of escape came as she excused herself to check over her sister.

She walked in the darkened room to see a sleeping Jane and a maid attending some mending by the small glow of a candle.

"How is she?"

Oh, Miss, she has been resting comfortably for the past hour at least. I will stay here a bit longer. Your sister asked me to relay a message if she fell asleep before you returned." The maid blushed a little and looked down at the shirt she was darning.

"Betsy, please do not fret. You may tell me. Jane is dear and can have no message that you should feel uncomfortable relaying."

"Yes, ma'am. Miss Bennet asked me to tell you that under no circumstances are you to sleep in here tonight. You are to go to your own room. She said if you did not, I am to tell you that she will rise out of bed and walk all the way back to Longbourn in the morning."

Elizabeth laughed. She could imagine Jane saying such a thing. Sometimes the older sister tried so hard to get younger to comply with her directives when her reasons were protective. She also imagined Jane walking back to Longbourn. Even if she were in the best of health, Jane would not enjoy such a long and dirty endeavor.

Elizabeth let the maid see her smile and received one in return. Betsy knew enough of Jane from growing up on Longbourn's tenant farms to see the absurdity of her threat. Elizabeth quietly spoke, "Oh my, her attempt at walking all the way home would not suite anyone at all. Tell me, did she say anything else?"

"Yes, she asked me to wake her if you still refused to retire to your own chamber."

"Well, in that case I shall say goodnight. But, please come to me immediately if she becomes worse."

The maid stood and dropped a curtsey as Elizabeth made her way to the bedside. As she dropped a kiss on Jane's forehead and made sure the fever was mostly abated, Jane opened one eye and whispered, "Dear Lizzy, you will sleep tonight and then talk to me in the morning and not a moment later."

"Of course, good night." Elizabeth made her way to her room and quickly feel into a dreamless slumber.

THE NEXT MORNING SAW a cold gray sky outside the walls of Netherfield. Darcy awoke with the feeling he did not wish to leave his chambers. He was still in need of a great deal of solitude to review his conclusions of yesterday.

Despite Elizabeth's proclamations of not seeing a need to marry after what they shared two nights ago, Darcy felt very differently from her after further reflection. His honor was engaged, even against his reason. Not that he felt much reason left within him. He had never violated society's rules in such a way in the whole of his life. He dedicated himself to staying out of every entanglement that was thrown his way. He prided himself on it. However, this entanglement was of his own making. A lifetime of duty, honor, and expectations had been instilled in the very fiber of his being. He had been wrong to think he could throw caution to the wind and enjoy Elizabeth's embrace without consequence. And for that, he felt truly guilty in ignoring all he had been taught by his father. Somewhere though, within that guilt was a small degree of elation for how his life may change. His father would at least be proud he was going to do the right thing by the lady.

He could not explain the pull he felt around her. He had not been in her company more than handful of times since their first meeting, which he had to admit was quite a disaster on his part. Yet, every time he was in her presence, the pull he felt intensified. It was as if he were the ocean, and she were the moon. The force of gravity was too much to overcome and the tide could not be stopped. _Hardly a month of knowing her, and I am a love-struck buffoon._ He shook off the sentiment.

If he were honest with himself, he was concerned in taking this step with a woman he did not know particularly well. He also had obvious concerns about her station and family. Mostly he did not feel prepared to take a wife and all that came with marriage. Well, there were _certain_ things concerning marriage he was quite ready for, but _that_ was not a sound reason to marry in his mind. Yet, _that_ was exactly why he was in this predicament. He let his lust get the better of him. Normally under such good regulation, he could not grasp why his desires were hardly to be contained when around Elizabeth.

Darcy needed something to calm his mind; he needed to clearly think on how he was to get Elizabeth to see his perspective. Unfortunately, it was too early for a drink and seemed too overcast for a ride.

She must not have thought he was serious when he suggested they marry. _Why else would she spurn such an idea?_ _I am one of the most eligible men in England_. He would have to show her he was in earnest. Since no one witnessed their passion, he felt he had some time to go about things properly. Problematically though, he had never courted a woman, so he was at quite a loss as to where to start. Given yesterday's failed meeting at breakfast, he would need to know exactly what he was about. He reasoned he was excellent in his business dealings and always carried out his plans with a great deal of success; if the same principles applied, maybe there was hope yet.

A knock on the door pulled Darcy out of his thoughts. Mr. Johnson came from the dressing room to allow Bingley in the room.

"Darcy, dashed my good man, what are you doing still abed? Should I call for the apothecary?"

"No, Bingley, I had a long day and needed the rest."

"How was your outing yesterday? Say, who did visit; anyone I might know? It would be a very well if I had some acquaintances close."

Darcy laid his head back down on the pillow and groaned. This was another reason he despised deception – it just led to further deception. "Bingley, I did not go to a friend's estate. I went to my London home, and I do not wish to discuss it. My apologies for my untruth. It is complicated, and I beg you to excuse my dishonestly and allow me to put off a proper explanation."

Bingley was taken back by this. This was quite unusual for his friend. He was confused and slightly annoyed by his Darcy's admission, but he decided a quick pardon was the wisest course considering his friend looked pained over the situation. "Certainly, think nothing of it. I am here if you would like to discuss whatever it is that weighs upon you, but I will leave you for now. Should we expect you in the breakfast room?"

"I think not. I will have a try up here. It does not look good for riding or shooting today. What say you to a round of billiards?"

"I think that just the thing."

ELIZABETH WENT TO CHECK on her sister after rising for the morning. She had lain in the soft down of her bed staring up at the canopy for a good several hours before the dawn as she continually pushed intrusive thoughts out of her mind. How she could feel so many contrary feelings twisted together she did not know. She could not wrap herself in enough of the bed clothes to feel covered; she felt exposed under the same roof as him.

Finally she pulled her feet to the cold floor and thought to take breakfast with Jane. She turned her concern to her sister and how she fared over the night.

Elizabeth walked into Jane's room and found she was much the same. They took a light repast while keeping to neutral topics until Jane had finally partaken enough toast and enough of her sister's conversational sidestepping.

As Elizabeth rang the bell for the tray to be cleared, Jane grasped here sister's hand. "Time to talk Elizabeth. I can tell you are hurting or conflicted. Please tell me if I can alleviate your distress?"

Elizabeth closed her eyes and turned her head.

"Oh, Lizzy, is it that bad?"

"No, Jane it is not."

Jane decided to keep her silence and wait out her sister. A few moments later, Elizabeth spoke.

"Two nights ago, something happened that I am greatly struggling with. And, no, I am not hurt, but I am confused and am trying to come to peace with my own actions and feelings."

"Lizzy, if someone in this house has hurt you in any way, I prefer to leave by any means we can arrange. I am sure Mr. Bingley will let us use his carriage. We can be firm against his protestations."

"No, you must not be moved until you are well. If I tell you, will you promise to let me sort this out on my own and stay put in bed per the direction of Mr. Jones?"

"If it means that much to you, I will. Now, please, share your burden."

Elizabeth gave an abbreviated version of the events two nights ago in the drawing room and in the library. It was an understatement to say Jane was shocked, but her fears were calmed as Elizabeth assured her that Mr. Darcy's attentions were not forced. Elizabeth's mortification was complete as she admitted aloud that she actually welcomed his actions. She did not go into specifics on just how long they were locked in a passionate embrace – a couple of kisses shared on a sofa was quite enough to get the point across to Jane. Elizabeth also felt it unnecessary to bring up the discussion of marriage or his parting words that were truly at the center of her turmoil. But, she did explain to Jane that despite her behavior, her feelings for Mr. Darcy were that same as they had been, and that she was resolved to move past everything as soon as possible.

"He must love you Lizzy."

"That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard from you."

"How so?"

"I hardly know the man! He does not know me at all. We have been in company a few times over what… the last few weeks? That is not enough time to fall love. I do believe he finds me more than tolerable now, but I am under no illusion of anything more."

"I disagree."

Elizabeth's mouth opened but checked herself before she could utter another word. She wished she could take back what she had already said. Jane disagreed because she was in love with Mr. Bingley.

"I am sorry, Jane. I did not realize your feelings ran that deeply yet. Please forgive me for spouting off my silly opinions. It is not for me to judge how others feel or how quickly they feel it. I am confident that Mr. Darcy has no such feelings for me though. We only got carried away because it was dark and romantic and our discussion was much too personal. But, you on the other hand, well, I can believe that you love Mr. Bingley. Your feelings are too pure and good. I just hope he is sensible enough to see what a great gift your love is."

Elizabeth was relieved for a greater understanding of her sister's heart and shifted the conversation toward Mr. Bingley and happier possibilities.

* * *

 **A/N:** My apologies for waiting so long to update! I was sick and dealing with some work deadlines. I'm better now, and I think the next update will be just a day or two from now.

I'm excited for the next chapter! It is one of the first scenes I wrote before the plot came together. What happens in the next chapter and the library scene were the catalyst for this entire story.

Anyway, the pace will pick-up from here. And, this is shaping up to be a full-length novel – we have quite a ways to go. For the reviewer who asked, I am going to guess around 25-35 chapters.

Again, I apologize for any typos. I have a new appreciation for the difficulty in editing. Perhaps I need a beta reader to help catch some of the most glaring issues. Any takers?

I appreciate all the reviews and comments. It is especially encouraging that everyone seems to see past all the glaring editing errors. (Seriously working on that.) Here are some responses to a couple of themes I saw in the reviews:

*The letter will serve its purpose, but it will stay between E, D, J and C. I really don't like Caroline, so she won't have a starring role in the ensuing drama. However, this letter will come back in a big way between E and D, and it will sadly bolster the conflict in the latter half of the story.

*Bingley is a bit of a stronger character in this story. But, he has good reason to take his sister more in hand. This will be explained very soon! After the next chapter, Darcy will give Caroline even less consideration than he does now. She is and will foever be his friend's annoying sister.


	8. Chapter 8

FINDING THE BILLIARDS room empty, Darcy wondered to Bingley's study and found his friend blankly staring out the window.

"Oh, come now, stop mooning. Your woolgathering is slightly pathetic."

Bingley turned and gave him a grin as he went to the sideboard. "Drink?"

"I have already had my breakfast this morning, but thank you."

"A little fortification for the day never hurts." Bingley raised his glass and took a sip. "Ready to be defeated, my friend?"

"I am thoroughly looking forward to it. If you are done pretending to be master of this estate in this disordered chaos you call a study, then let us not delay you taking me for all I am worth at the billiards table."

"I resent that, and may I remind you that your sole purpose in being here is to mold me into a landowner. If I am failing, it is because of your poor tutelage."

"If you would rather review the accounts, then I suggest you put down the drink, and we will start this very moment." Darcy moved toward the desk, picked up a ledger book, and pretended to study it. "Although, part of being a gentleman farmer is entertaining your guests. I suppose if we remove ourselves to the billiards room, then it is a kind of lesson is it not?"

"I will bow to you superior knowledge, sir." Bingley gave his friend and exaggerated bow. "I suppose there is not much else in the way of amusements considering the current weather, unless you prefer to entertain the ladies. Of course, we can always leave that to Gilbert."

"I suspect the only thing Gilbert entertaining this day will be your stash of liquor." Darcy still had yet to let a smile pass his lips, although it was a challenge. He enjoyed his friend's conversation and felt his spirits rising from the confusing, low place of yesterday.

"Concerning my stash of liquor, I am like-minded as Gilbert at the moment. I suppose it will shape-up to be a rather tedious day, well, unless Miss Bennet can be persuaded to join us later for tea or supper. However, there is nothing worse than when you are idle or losing to me at the table. I need this drink and a possibly few more. Are you sure you cannot be tempted?" Bingley shook his snifter in Darcy's direction before swallowing the contents.

Bingley finally got a chuckle from his friend, but it was short-lived.

A moment before they turned to leave the room, Darcy's eyes were drawn to the window where a pale blue skirt was floating in the wind as he looked to the garden below. And though his heart stopped unknowingly for the tiniest of moment, his spirit was again overtaken by anxiety for how quickly he saw his life changing. As they walked down the corridor and against his better judgement, Darcy decided to take his friend up on the offer of a stiff morning drink.

CAROLINE SAT AS HER MAID reworked her hair for the second time early in the day; Louisa sat close-by giving out suggestions on which style brought out her sister's best features.

"Louisa, do you think I am making progress? I do feel rather discouraged after seeing that discarded letter yesterday. What can he mean by not being ready to marry? It is beyond time for him to take a wife. I am growing rather impatient, and now I am beginning to consider how much longer I should wait."

"I think you are doing wonderfully as a hostess. He is not blind, so I am sure he notices it as well. You could not look any more sophisticated as of late. If we can all see the splendor of the match so clearly, then so must he, although Jane and her sister are quite the distraction. Fortunately for you, he obviously knows well enough that Miss Elizabeth is completely unsuitable for a wife, so you at the very least have no worry on that score. You only have to deal with his admiration of her – a common occurrence you will have to deal with in any case once a wife. Gilbert is always noticing other women – it is just the way men are. Just be glad Darcy seems to admire Miss Elizabeth and not Jane. Now, she is rather remarkable in her looks and would be a bigger problem to contend with."

"I cannot wait for that chit to leave this house. Jane is a dear, but she needs to remove herself as well. How improper that they are by choosing to stay here."

Louisa nodded her head in agreement as her sister continued.

"What I cannot understand is that he actually suggested that Eliza might be friends with Georgianna. How could demean his sister so? When I take my rightful place, I will see to it that the dear has the proper connections she is entitled to."

Louisa preened over her bracelets and asked, "So, do you think Eliza has found our little surprise yet?"

"If she has not mentioned it by supper, I will not so subtly inquire." Caroline smirked in the mirror with a deceptively evil eye and admonished her maid to start over. The maid rolled her eyes and set to taking the pins out of the masterpiece she had just created.

"Caroline, do you think we made the correct choice with the letter?" Louisa initially agreed with Caroline that the best choice was to make Elizabeth aware of it indirectly. They were wise enough to know making a spectacle of Darcy's half-finished letter to his aunt would cause an unpleasant reduction in pin money if Charles were to get wind of their manipulations. However, after thinking n it further and seeing no reaction yet from Miss Elizabeth, Louisa was now concerned they had perhaps risked too much.

"Louisa, how can you think otherwise? It was really our only course. You know that there was not much else I could do without the risk of Charles finding out. And, I dare say, she will either realize her machinations toward him are now hopeless and give up, or she will be so embarrassed at being deemed unsuitable that she will want to leave. Yes, I dare say we did the best under the circumstances."

"Other than Charles somehow finding out our role if delivering the message, I do have concerns that he was so plain in his admiration. She is already such a conceited little thing; I hope his little note does not fill her head with more arrogance. I hate to see her so sure of her success that she would compromise him."

Caroline's face looked as if she had drank sour milk. "Truly, I think the admiration hardly matters. I am sure he admires all sorts of women. He is a man after all. It comes down to whether or not she is marriage material. His duty in too ingrained in him. He will only take a wife suitable to be Mistress of Pemberley, and he clearly thinks she is not. That is what matters in his letter. Also, I cannot see that she would be successful with a compromise where so many other more cleaver women had failed." Caroline's face contorted into anger as she spoke the last part.

"I dare say you are correct. It is too bad he seems to have no priority on marriage. If it had not been for his horrid valet or if he was not so persistent with maintaining a bachelor's life, I may be visiting you at Pemberley instead of us being in this forsaken place. I am certainly fortunate Gilbert's servants were much more lax in locking his chambers."

"Oh, enough talk of these awful events. I am happy in your success but am still bitter. Charles has forgiven me, but I shall never live that mortification down."

"Well, Marie needs to make quick work of your hair. I would prefer we go down and await the gentlemen in the morning room. I do believe they will have no choice but to entertain us today considering the weather."

Louisa was much mistaken, the two sister would be waiting most of the day.

A FEW HOURS LATER saw the two gentlemen with jackets off and fumbling through a game at which they were both losing.

Gilbert Hurst had entered the room and observed, "Ah, gentlemen, perhaps you need me to show you how this game is played."

Charles replied, "We thank you for the offer, brother, but I will not give you a ready excuse to escape my sister."

Darcy could not suppress a small laugh.

"Darcy, you may find amusement at my expense now, but someday you will be leg-shackled, and it will be no laughing matter. You are damned lucky to have avoided the terrible fate of marriage, and you can thank Charles for that, otherwise, we may not be in so dissimilar situations."

"Pardon me? I fail to understand how Charles is responsible for my not being married, please explain." Darcy's face took a hard expression as he looked at both men.

Charles cried out in an effort to turn the conversation, "Gilbert, you are already drunk this morning and know not what you are speaking. Let Darcy and I finish our game, and then you can play the winner." Darcy did not miss the brief but stern warning glance Bingley shot his brother-in-law.

Gilbert quickly interpreted Bingley's admonishing look despite his inebriated state so early in the day. "Capital, Charles. Darcy, please excuse my speech, I was rambling. We all know Bingley's happy manners and pretty face attracts all the female attention away from the rest of us which leaves you to enjoy your freedom from the clutches of society's social climbers. If I had only had such a distracting friend as Bingley here a few years prior."

"Gilbert, only because I have the smallest of sympathies will I leave that slight toward Louisa unchecked."

"Dear brother, forgive me, but she is my wife to slight as I wish."

Darcy just raised his brow in disbelief at the pair of them and tried to concentrate on his next shot. His question as to Gilbert's earlier meaning would not go unanswered; Darcy demanded an answer. In Bingley's face, he saw a silent agreement to explain later as he gave his friend a questioning glare.

Irritation was settling in; he had attempted to relieve his anxiety over Elizabeth with the company of his friend and few more glasses of brandy than normal. Gilbert's comment ruined all the distraction he had found.

After a missed shot, Darcy put his cue away and said to his friend, "I believe the next shot makes the game yours and Gilbert's and you another farthing to the good." He took a seat contemplating another drink. _I suppose I may. I will most likely be better off drunk than worrying over this matter or any other._ Conveniently forgotten was that he rarely drank to excess since taking over Pemberley and therefore could not hold his liquor like his companions.

Gilbert decided to retire to his room for a rest after he had beaten Bigley twice and the three of them consumed what was left in the crystal decanter; a footman was summoned to assist him the stumbling man up the stairs. They were all in their cups after a few hours, and poor Mr. Hurst was by far in the worst condition.

A short time later, a knock on the door brought Mrs. Nichols. "Gentlemen, Miss Bingley asked to relay that the afternoon meal will be served soon."

"Thank you, but we will take repast here. Please also send a bottle of port from the cellar as well, and give our regrets to my sisters and Miss Elizabeth."

Mrs. Nichols acknowledged her master and went to do his bidding.

"Charles, I fully expect an explanation for Hurst's speech earlier this morning. Do not think me being almost foxed has altered my memory, and his drunkenness is not an excuse for such insinuation. I have always been honest with you and expect the same." Darcy was satisfied that he could still sounded commanding despite a small slur creeping into his speech.

Charles was not in the habit of anyone making him feel like a schoolboy and did not care for Darcy's tone of voice, but his best friend did deserve the truth. He hoped for understanding and thought to be gracious by not pointing out the fact that Darcy had not been exactly honest or forthcoming about leaving to a 'friend's estate' the day previous. It was not common between the two to keep things from each other, so Bingley thought to put the truth out there.

"Darcy, I am not happy to explain, but I will. Can we defer until our meal and the port is brought up?

"I can accept that."

They were silent a few moments until Darcy spoke again. "Do you mind if I ask you something of quite a personal nature?"

Bingley was intrigued since his friend did not often speak so plainly on personal issues. "I do not, please proceed. I will answer if able."

Darcy sucked in a breath, put a hand through his hair, and loosened his cravat. "Tell me, you have proclaimed love several times, yet nothing comes from it. Do you just fall out of love? I admit I do not understand."

Bigley's intrigue changed to shock although he was also amused that Darcy would ask such a thing. Any conversations they had on the subject were generally teasing in nature. Darcy was very private and did not muse aloud on the fairer sex and all the trappings associated. Bingley had his suspicions over the past several days concerning his friend and Miss Bennet's sister, but he knew as much to keep those thoughts unsaid.

Deciding to answer the question at hand, Bingley replied, "It is actually quite simple; I am not truly in love to begin with. I am sure I have never proclaimed love before to any woman. You and my sisters take any attentions or admiration I have toward a lady and turn it to jests over being a calf in love."

"My apologies. And the difference between love and admiration?

"I can only speak for myself, and forgive me for being a sentimental fool as you so often call me, but I am in all seriousness and just beginning to understand it. Love means doing anything required to make the object of my heart mine for a lifetime… a marriage, a life together." Bingley felt somewhat awkward explaining this to his friend and found a need to lighten the mood. "May I ask where these questions tend? If you think yourself in love with my sister, then she is yours. Please take her to Pemberley as soon as may be. I will miss your good company thought. Do not expect me to visit as I will not suffer her lording over your manor. All of your servants will leave you, and you will have to lock her in the cellars to get only the bravest to return." Darcy's eyes grew large and horrified until he realized the humor in his friend's jest.

The alcohol and the absurdity of Darcy being in love with Caroline got them laughing so hard Bingley almost fell off his chair. The door opened suddenly, and both quickly sat up while Darcy cleared his throat. He said quietly under his breath as the food was being uncovered, "I should call you out for even expressing the thought of your sister becoming mistress of my home, but instead I give you my sympathy for your lot in finding your sister a husband."

Bingley whispered back, "I will retract my words then and take your sympathy. I have every hope for a happy life before me, and I have no need for being shot dead over Caroline."

The servants vacated the room leaving the men alone again as both turned more serious.

"Darce, you are making me refill my glass with this talk. Why these questions about such a subject?"

"I am just contemplating the next stage of my life."

Bingley nodded and partook of some much needed food.

Darcy continued his questioning. "So, do these women you admire end up with disappointed hopes?"

"I should think not. I never had the impression any of them cared for me much in that way. There were some flirtations on both sides, but I would never trifle with a woman's sincere affections, and I would never take liberties with a lady – you know, gentlemanly conduct, honor, and all that. Surely, you would not doubt me?"

Darcy felt quite contrite at Bingley's speech which reminded him that unlike Bingley, he had indeed taken liberties and now had to owe up to his honor and act the part of a gentleman. He finished the liquid in his glass and looked Bingley in the eyes. Deflection was his best ally at this point, "And Miss Bennet, is she just a flirtation?"

Bigley stood at the implication Darcy laid out. "Tell me you ask this question without ulterior motive concerning the lady and without questioning my honor."

"Sit down; I have no interest in the lady nor question your conduct. Do not be daft; stop drinking if you are going to be defensive. I am merely curious as I have been considering entering a relationship with a lady." He quickly added, "Of course, I ask that my confession goes no further than this room."

A smile lit over Bigley's face as his suspicions of the past couple of days were nearly confirmed. If all worked out, having Darcy as a brother would make him very satisfied. Bingley did not notice at all how quickly his mind jumped to matrimony in both their cases.

He took a seat and poured them each another drink. "Ah, well, I will tell you that it is much more than a flirtation with Jane Bennet. I do not actually think flirtation even applies as it does not seem an appropriate term for such a woman. Truly, if I knew her feelings matched mine, I would ready my coach for Scotland this moment and not give a damn about the rest of you." Bingley's happy smile induced an astonishment in Darcy.

"How can you be so sure? You have not known her long."

Bingley shrugged. "I just know. I do not see how strength of feeling has to be dependent on duration. The first night I spoke to her, I knew I would love her. You see, with any woman I previously admired, there was no real depth of feeling. With Jane, it is different. There is no hesitation. I am only playing by society's rules until I can determine her feelings."

This was not helpful for Darcy's situation and only confused him. "Let us say you were not sure but thought there was a possibility for mutual respect and happiness. If you were not confident in taking such a step as marriage but thought it a good idea or even perhaps required of your honor, how would you proceed?"

At this point, Bingley was highly amused. Not only did his friend ever require such advice but he was obviously in his cups. The only overly obvious sign to Bingley though was that Darcy was letting his reserve down. It had been a long time since he had seen this side of his friend that was not overly assured about everything and everyone. "You know, Darcy, if it were not completely a matter of honor, I could not say how I would proceed. I have never had to deliberate about a lady. I just embraced whatever natural penchant I had. However, if my honor were involved, then I do not think I have to even explain my position to you."

"Most insightful."

Darcy's sarcasm was lost on his friend, but there was not much else to relate on the subject. It then struck Bingley that he needed to be honest with Darcy about the earlier conversation with Hurst. That was a matter of honor he had tried to justify keeping quiet the last several months.

"Darce, oblige me for a moment and drink the rest of what is in your glass. You will not enjoy what I have to relate."

Darcy did as he was bid realizing the subject had changed and this was the answer he demanded earlier.

"Before I begin, let me say I know your honor is above reproach as a gentleman. I would never believe you capable of compromising her… or any lady for that matter, and I would never be one to force a marriage in this situation."

Darcy's drink almost slipped to the exotic carpet below his feet. Had someone seen him and Elizabeth the other night? He did not think he could bear his best friend calling him on his so very personal actions with _her_ and stood to move toward the window. He did not want to face his friend until he steeled himself which was more difficult to do than normal considering he stumbled a bit as he made his way across the room. Bingley thought the best of him, and this was sure to be a disappointment.

Bingley was concerned as he saw his friend move to the window and his mien to move from open and relaxed to closed and grim. "Please do not hold this against your valet or Caroline. I have dealt with her and initially told her I would endeavor to not speak of it to you since no damage was done. She has also agreed to amend her behavior. I have taken her quite in hand. I can be threatening when required as you well know. I hate to break her trust, but I can see it is more important to be forthcoming with you."

Darcy was quite perplexed and turn his head at Bingley's words. "I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Charles."

"At the house party given by Lincoln early in the summer, Caroline attempted a compromise with you. Somehow she acquired a key to your room, and your valet brought her to me after she was discovered. It was quite brave of him really; he can be quite intimidating. Anyhow, I suppose Hypnos takes quite a hold of you, because your valet assured me you heard none of it her attempt to gain entrance to your bed chamber. Caroline begged us to keep it her perfidy quiet and not tell you. I only agreed out of the want to protect my sister's reputation. When I did think of telling you, you were rushing back to London before we could speak. I will assure you that Caroline knows one false step will earn her a permanent trip to Yorkshire and quite a decrease in funds. Louisa has been given a similar ultimatum in the case she was an accomplice. Darcy, you have a sister. Tell me you would not have initially done the same thing in the best interest of Georgianna by keeping a poor decision as quiet as possible."

If Darcy would not have felt immense relief in knowing he had not been spied with Elizabeth, he would have let his anger get the better of him and left for London that day. Furthermore, the amount of fine liquor may have aided in Darcy keeping a cooler head than was his normal wont.

"Bingley, why tell me now? Yes, I would have done the same thing in protecting my sister as much as possible although I am most unhappy with you and my valet keeping something from me of this nature." Darcy's mind immediately went to the summer previous and thought of all he had done to protect his sister. He could not blame his friend as much as he hated being prey to Miss Bingley. "I also cannot comprehend your sister. I know there is no need, but let me be clear – I will never be induced to marry your sister, and I will not be held responsible for my actions if I find her in my room while I am a guest here."

"I cannot lie directly to your face. You wanted an explanation for Gilbert's speech, and I give it to you now. Be assured that only Caroline, your valet, Louisa, Gilbert and I know about this. Everyone has been sworn to silence. Furthermore, even if there were a need for Caroline's reputation, I would not ask it of you nor allow you to take her as a bride. I love my sister, but I wish for her happiness as well as yours."

Darcy went back to the fire and took the chair opposite his friend. They shook hands, and Bigley refilled their glasses. "Enough of all the serious talk. Let us talk of less complicated times. Do you recall when Richard pushed you into the River Cam? I do believe that was the last time I saw you drink as much as you have today. That night holds one of my fondest memories."

Both men laughed like school boys and proceeded to recollect easier days until they drank themselves into quite a stupor trying to forget the weight of fortunes, guardianship, and potential marriages.

A FEW HOURS LATER Darcy woke to the dressing gong with one leg over a chair that was no match for his tall frame. He rose and removed the drink from his friend's hand; it was precariously close to falling to the floor as Bingley's grip was not so strong in his sleep.

Darcy was no stranger to the seldom occasion in which Bingley passed-out after a day of over-indulgence and decided it best to let him remain in the chair. He was a grown man after all, and if he could not rouse himself for dinner, then so be it.

After making his way to the door, Darcy took hold of the frame to steady himself. His nap had done him no favors; he was still quite soused and smiled stupidly at the thought. It was no wonder so many men fell to the power of spirits, it was entirely effective in lessening the heaviness of one's burdens.

The only thing to do was try to make it to his chamber to dress for dinner. He knew he would regret the amount of drink he consumed come tomorrow morning for he was not a four-bottle man or even a one-bottle man, but he decided the headache he would have tomorrow morning would be quite worth it.

He and Charles had quite an afternoon after they decided to put all heavy topics behind them. This was why he appreciated Bingley so much, he could always provoke him out of his melancholy. Darcy felt more light-hearted than he had in quite a while and much more able to face _her_ at supper. He was actually looking forward to it.

ELIZABETH WAS RETURNING to check on her sister before dressing for supper. Jane's recovery was going well enough that she thought to spend time in the drawing room later in the evening, and Elizabeth wanted to check once more that she was truly able to attempt such a return to company.

As Elizabeth walked along the corridor illuminated by the soft glow of wall sconces, she heard a familiar voice call to her. The last thing she felt equal to was turning around, but the fact that he called her by her Christian name and in such a location where servants could hear was too grave an error on his part to let go without rebuke.

The reproof on her lips was silenced as she turned to look at _him_. There he was with a loose cravat, jacket thrown over one should, and hair quite wild. He was leaning against the wall appearing as though he had all the confidence in the world. The look on his face was not one she had seen previously. He looked like a boy, carefree, as if the smile on his face was well practiced and normally something that graced his lips. As he sauntered somewhat ungracefully toward her, she dared not speak and only followed him with her eyes. The pace of her heart increased as he drew near.

"Elizabeth."

He said her name with such tenderness that she was blushing to her toes. Blinking in discomposure and in disbelief that he would be so careless, she finally looked around to see if any servants were about. Heaven forbid anyone witness him taking such liberty with her name. Anger quickly enveloped her other feelings as she felt he was well beyond the bounds of propriety.

Somehow, despite his disarmingly handsome smile, she found her wits. _Thank god he prefers to look stern most of the time, otherwise I might be in some real danger. Handsome or no, he must know his place with me._

She decided to call out his behavior and not give in to her embarrassment as she had done the day before in the breakfast room. She would not be intimidated. "Sir, I did not give you permission to call me as such. You forget yourself."

"My apologies, _Miss_ Elizabeth. Have you had a fine day?" Unfortunately at this time, a lone hiccup escaped Mr. Darcy.

"Sir?" She quirked an eyebrow at him and tried to keep in the sudden quell of laughter that almost escaped her mouth. He looked quite sheepish and she realized there may be a reason, if not an entirely appropriate one, for the casual state of not only his attire but address.

"Madam, excuse me." He hiccuped again, and Elizabeth could not hold it in. Here was the most serious man she had ever met, and he was hiccuping.

She took mercy on him and quickly reined in her mirth. "Think nothing of it. I must be off to ready for supper." She dropped a quick curtsy. As she turned to finish walking the length to Jane's room, he stilled her by placing the barest touch just above her exposed hand. She froze averting her eyes not daring to engage his.

"Madam, may I share a confidence?" In an exaggerated manner, he looked around to see if anyone had come into the corridor but truthfully was too foxed to care and did not bother to wait for her to answer. For her ears alone, he said, "I have never kissed another – only you."

Elizabeth fought her inclination to step away and looked up at him incredulously. He responded by placing his hand in the air as if taking an oath and whispered, "On my honor, as a gentleman."

She finally put some distance between them thinking this was a dangerous conversation, but her curiosity and courage were too great to ignore.

Looking doubtful, she asked, "Pray tell, your age, sir?"

"Seven and twenty."

"I am to believe you have never kissed a woman?" She could not believe it, and she could not believe she had just asked him such a question.

She felt her stomach drop as he grinned as widely as she had ever seen, and he responded, "I suppose I have kissed my housekeeper, my aunt, and my sister. I also would kiss my mother..." His smile died at that last statement.

As much as she wanted to flee to Jane's room, the gentle nature within her could not leave him looking so forlorn. She was blessed enough to have both her parents, and she knew he had neither. She presented him a comforting smile and then arched her brow finding the mettle to tease him a bit before walking away. "Sir, I think you understood the intent of my question. Pardon me for having doubts that a man of your age and worldly understanding has no amorous history with women. After all, I am qualified to say that what I have experienced was not something novice on your part."

He smirked in satisfaction that she all but admitted he was rather good at kissing her the other night. Once more a hiccup escaped him while the smirk did not leave his face.

She did not refrain from showing her exasperation and heaved a long sigh. _Men are insufferable, prideful creatures_.

As he thought through his hazy state as to what she was implying behind the possible compliment, his satisfaction turned to indignation.

"Well, Miss Elizabeth, I am a man of seven and twenty. You can have no idea what it means to restrain myself in the face of a pretty woman. And, restrain myself I most certainly have done the entirety of my life. So, you will have to excuse me if my natural inclination got the better of me the other night. Do you think it is easier to choose morality over natural impulse? I know for a fact it is not, but I have refused to give consequence to expectations that cannot be fulfilled. Despite my behavior otherwise two nights previous, I am a better man than that. Furthermore, I do not believe it takes much practice to be proficient at something so natural."

Darcy did not think he accomplished an explanation or a proper rebuttal with his thoughts so muddled, nor had he accomplished the apology he thought of earlier in the morning when racking his mind with thoughts on how to win her over. In his mind, she must come to agree with his view of what must take place to right the wrong of him compromising her.

His mind was clouded, and he needed to sit down. He continued nonetheless to an Elizabeth who just looked on with her expressive eyes wide and her pert mouth formed in a little open circle. "If I came across having any proficiency in the matter, I promise here and now that it was a little luck and mostly instinct - not for practice." _However, I may have practiced in my mind._ Even drunk he thought better to hold that thought inside his mind.

Elizabeth had enough of his shocking speech and really thought she should leave before losing her temper. She made no comment as she turned from him but heard his say, "Pray tell your age and experience, Elizabeth? By what or whose standard do you judge my performance? The same argument holds true for yourself. Your advanced skill was not unnoticed by myself."

She spun around and marched directly up to him. Her air of fury was almost enough to knock him off his already precarious balance. With narrowed eyes she responded to his intimation, "Mr. Darcy, that is none of your concern. How dare you insult my virtue and assume it is anything other than pristine. And you… you are inebriated… and in the middle of the day no less!"

As she turned away hoping for the last time, Mr. Darcy reached his hand over her shoulder in an effort to keep her from moving away. Whether she liked it or not, his touch calmed her anger, and she looked back up to him gently pleading with her eyes for him to release her.

He moved his hand but did not step back from her. Gazing at her profile, he bent his head slightly and spoke in a low tone over her ear. "I do not know where that came from, forgive me. I had intended to properly apologize for the other night but find I am in no state to do so. I promise a proper confession of remorse at a later time if you will allow it. In the meantime, on merit alone, did you really find my kisses enjoyable as you implied? I thought I made a bumbling mess of things and am still not convinced otherwise. I can tell you I have thought of nothing else except how exquisite it was… well that, and the fact you spurned me."

He looked away and thought it was past time to remove himself from her presence. Too caught-up in his own feelings and empowered by the euphoria of her scent, all of which served to intensify the courage provided by the port he earlier consumed, he let go of all the diffidence of the past two days and placed a single hand high along the soft muslin fabric covering her waist and leaned his head again close to her ear. She could feel his cheek in her hair this time. "If you happened into the library this evening after the house has retired, I would very much enjoy the chance to provide a proper apology, or if you would rather, I would be happy to improve my proficiency in the skill you already seem to think I possess. The choice is yours, madam."

Elizabeth was so far out of her depth of experience that she racked her senseless mind for a reply as she stood blushing and unable to move away. His closeness was as intoxicating as all the liquor she was certain he had earlier consumed. The feel of his hand on her waist made her want to lean back into him. With a deep, settling breath, she fought to step out of his grasp and effect a stern voice – she failed utterly at both.

"Sir, you go too far. I will provide pardon this time on account that you have drank far too many drinks to truly know what you are saying. Please take care to remember that next time there will be no fair warning, and my wrath at such suggestions will not be contained." After finally removing herself from his embrace and calming the rapid rise and fall of her chest, Elizabeth held her head high recalling that she would not be overwhelmed by any man. She gave him one last caution, "I am not to be trifled with, and I am quite vengeful. I would hate for you to experience it."

"I believe it of you. But, I am not trifling with you."

Before she turned the door knob to Jane's room, she glanced over her shoulder with a saucy look. Making sure they were still alone, she asked, "May I inquire to the state of Mr. Bingley? Are all the gentlemen of the house to be in their cups for supper?"

Mr. Darcy let out a chuckle. "As entertaining as that sounds, Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley may be too far gone to join us. I believe Mr. Bingley is still asleep in his chair near the billiards table."

"And _you_ think it appropriate to join us ladies while in such a state?" Elizabeth gave him a challenging look.

"Mr. Hurst proclaims it the best way to endure our hostess and his own wife, so I felt obliged to give it a try. I most assuredly am looking forward to dinner although I suspect my patience may be tried anyhow, and I will have to excuse myself to the library at some point this evening." Mr. Darcy leaned against the wall and gave his best, rakish smile that was used to charm the ladies in his family. The exertion caused him to slide off balance, and he caught himself before almost falling to the floor.

He looked up in time to see Elizabeth shaking her head and silently laughing at him. "Well, Mr. Darcy, I will be sure to share your late night destination with Miss Bingley. I am sure she will want to see to your care and comfort." She gave a light-hearted laugh and walked into Jane's room.

 **A/N:** You know what they say about best laid plans… my apologies for not updating sooner!

Thanks for your reviews, I cannot tell you how much they encourage me, even when they provide constructive criticism. Please keep them coming!

I rewrote parts of this chapter several times. I was hoping to get a little further into the next scenes, but I had to push those to the next chapter for a much needed heart-to-heart between friends. I wasn't sure I could get away with men discussing their feelings, but my research led me to believe I could, so I put it in and don't regret it.

For anyone offended by drinking, I promise drunkenness is not really a common theme in my story.

Just to be clear, that letter has not been found yet, but it will before dinner time. :)

One last question, would it be helpful to put a recap at the top of the my chapters to refresh your memory? Or, is that annoying to readers?


	9. Chapter 9

_Recap_ :

 _Elizabeth has come to nurse a sick Jane a Netherfield Park. Mr. Darcy starts off fighting his attraction for Lizzy, and Lizzy has no clue what to make of her own jumbled feelings – she does not even correctly identify them. The first night Elizabeth is there, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth meet in the library, and things get heated as our favorite characters deny all propriety and kiss quite a bit. Mr. Darcy is an honorable gentleman, and in his mind, he just compromised a lady, so he suggests marriage to which Elizabeth thinks he is mad._

 _Before seeing Elizabeth in the library, he wrote a letter to his Aunt Ellen Fitzwilliam explaining that though he accidentally mentioned a young woman several times in a letter he wrote to Georgianna, he has no intentions toward her other than friendship and no intentions anytime soon of marrying._

 _Caroline finds Darcy's half-written letter that he meant to burn. Disappointed and with little options on how to act since she must stay out of trouble or lose her brother's protection, she placed the letter in a stack of books for Elizabeth to find hoping to either anger Lizzy or realize she will never catch Mr. Darcy for a husband._

 _After the kiss, Darcy runs off to London for the day resolving his honor is engaged and that he must marry Elizabeth. He comes back that night, and then next day uncharacteristically drinks his anxiety away. While drinking, he learns that Caroline had tried to compromise him earlier that year which explains why Charles is taking more command of his family. Darcy also gets tipsy enough to overtly flirt with Elizabeth in the hall outside Jane's room and almost kisses her again._

* * *

The families living in their great estates were never quite alone; the walls always seemed to hear and see. It was a trapping of wealth that the servants often went unnoticed going about their duties, rarely seen but always observing. It was mostly chance for Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth that the only witness to their little charade in the corridor was Mr. Johnson. Although it was quite unintentional that Darcy's valet discovered the pair as he was discreetly exiting his master's rooms, he deemed it his duty to know as much as possible about Fitzwilliam Darcy at any given time not only to anticipate his needs but to provide protection. Mr. Johnson quickly stepped back in the room but left the door ajar just enough to understand the significance of his master's behavior. Though he was not at all approving of Fitzwilliam's behavior toward the young miss, he was inclined to endorse the lady due to her lauded goodness and intelligence by those who knew best - it was quite remarkable when the lowliest servant spoke so reverently of his betters even when unsolicited. Theodore was sure his friend somewhere in the heavens would be pleased in his son's choice.

Mr. Johnson considered Fitzwilliam's health, reputation, and happiness a moral and sworn obligation to his departed friend. The son was of course ignorant not only of the vow his valet had given to his dying father but also mostly of the bond that required it, and Mr. Johnson was content to let things be.

His duty to the current Mr. Darcy was just that of a valet; his duties as protector and guardian were to the former Mr. Darcy. It was best that Fitzwilliam not think of his servant as interfering or over stepping. Only Mrs. Reynolds knew anything of this arrangement as she was under a similar agreement. The two loved Fitzwilliam as their own and would do anything to see to his success in life.

Mr. Johnson hoped that Miss Elizabeth Bennet could be just what was needed for the man he secretly saw as the closest thing to a son he had ever had, and he was thankful Fitzwilliam seemed to realize her worth as well. She was quite a step-up in character from the ladies Fitzwilliam associated with when in mixed company that was not family.

Mr. Johnson smiled thinking he was also quite aware that Fitzwilliam had no experience or skills required to _properly_ woo a worthy woman, although he had to give Fitzwilliam credit for trying. He laughed thinking that an assignation with what by all accounts was a virtuous lady would not happen under his watch if he could help it, at least not at this fragile point – it was clear there was nothing close to an understanding yet between Fitzwilliam and Miss Bennet. He intended to keep watch by the library in the late evening making his presence known if required. In the meantime, he thought to write Mrs. Reynolds to apprise her of the situation in Hertfordshire.

ELIZABETH CLOSED THE DOOR AND SLID to the ground for a second time in two days as her skirts billowed around her. _Mr. Darcy clearly has no shame._

"Lizzy, please come sit in the chair here. I would hate for one of the maids to open the door and trip over you."

Elizabeth did as she was asked and pulled herself from the floor and slumped in the chair. She was breathless, agitated, and admittedly amused, if only slightly, after her most recent encounter with Mr. Darcy. "Sister, men are the most infuriating, beastly, and confusing creatures God placed in this world. I believe woman's divine punishment is not only the suffering of bearing children but the suffering of senseless men."

"Lizzy, if Mary were here, she would remind you that God also told Eve in the same moment her lot was to desire her husband be ruled over by him. If men are senseless, then God has imposed the punishment of not only desiring their senselessness but unfortunately having to submit to it."*

Lizzy's cast a grim look in Jane's direction. "I must disagree. God did indeed say woman would desire and submit, but there was no mention of desiring and submitting to the nonsensical."

Jane laughed at her sister's disgusted look, and the laughter seemed to improve her state of health even more coupled with the diligent care of her sister and Mr. Bingley's servants. "Lizzy, I do believe if you would pay more attention in church, you would recall that this was actually a topic several weeks back. It quite stuck with me that God proclaimed woman would desire her husband as part of the punishment for the great fall. I have been wondering since if I would ever come to know a man I could truly desire and submit to."

"Janie, I do believe you have to look no further unless I am mistaken."

Jane looked up with crimson cheeks and swatted her hand toward Elizabeth. "And you dear sister? Although I do worry about Mr. Darcy overstepping. Your blush did not escape me despite your exasperated state when entering this room."

"Well, I do not desire Mr. Darcy, nor do I wish to be lorded over by him, or by any man for that matter. Luckily God also gave women free will along with the men, and I will exercise mine to not place myself in the binds of marriage anytime in the near future, and maybe not at all if it can be helped."

"Whatever you say dearest. Now before you runoff to dress for supper, will you please tell me what has you in such a state? Surely Mr. Darcy did not make advances upon you again?"

"No, not exactly."

"What exactly is the meaning of that, Lizzy?" Jane gave her sister a look that demanded satisfaction.

"Sister, I shall tell you all, but I promise it is not as bad as you think. But, truly I must dress if I am to make it to dinner. Do you think you will be well enough to join us later in the evening? Perhaps after we retire, we can talk."

"I do believe I will join you. Perhaps, you could come back to escort me after supper?"

"Of course, dear."

Jane ventured on, "You do not think it will be too presumptuous for me to come down and join company since the only reason we are staying here is because I am ill? I would not want Mr. Bingley to think it improper for me to remain in his home if I am well enough to join company… although I am sure we should plan to depart as soon as possible tomorrow morning." Jane sincerely meant it. Leaving tomorrow seemed like the best option considering all that Elizabeth had said of Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth recalled that Mr. Bingley was in no state to join the party downstairs if Mr. Darcy was to be believed. She was instantly cross on Jane's behalf as she knew her sister would be disappointed to miss his company this evening. She decided to not mention anything about his potential absence from the drawing room tonight.

"I do believe you are correct, tomorrow would be best for a departure if you are well enough." Elizabeth bent over to kiss her sister's cheek. "Now rest, my dearest; I will return later." Jane leaned back into the pillow with a smile and closed her eyes.

As Elizabeth walked out of the room, she glanced at the stack of books placed on the table by Mrs. Hurst. She rolled her eyes and decided to at least peak at the tittles after recalling Miss Bingley's questions the previous night. If questioned, she preferred to be truthful that the selections made from the library were adequate.

As Elizabeth shuffled through the titles noticing nothing too much to note, she was struck what seemed a valuable first edition. Inside the book were some yellowed fragile documents looking like a pamphlet of sorts. Excitedly, she picked up the book for closer examination thinking how much her father would love to see an original printing of that particular essay by a quite famed satirist. As pulled the book in closer, a piece of paper floated to the floor. When she retrieved it, she noticed it was not one of the pages of the pamphlet but a crumpled half-written letter on expensive parchment. It would not do to read another's correspondence she thought, but then again, she must know to whom to return it.

Elizabeth immediately could see the words were in a masculine hand and quickly decided to fold it over as to conceal the contents. She would hand it over to Mr. Bingley or the butler right away, but before she could fold it over, her name in firm lettering caught her eye.

Curiosity burning, she looked to Jane who was trying to settle deeper into the fluffy pillows, and Elizabeth hastily shoved the note in the pocket of her dress and left the room praying that no drunk gentlemen were lying in wait outside the door.

ELIZABETH WALKED TOWARD THE drawing room a half an hour later than she should have. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were at the drawing room door about to enter.

Miss Bingley turned a sour look on Elizabeth – she preferred to be the last to dinner, and Elizabeth was stealing her grand, fashionably late entrance. They all entered at the same time to an audience of Mr. Darcy and a footman.

"How kind of you ladies to join me." Mr. Darcy's face was inscrutable, but Elizabeth could hear the hint of admonishment and sarcasm in his voice.

She did not care a jot for his opinion. She was still feeling mortified, vexed, and even a little guilty after reading the letter found with the books placed in Jane's room. Towards Mr. Bingley's sisters, she felt even less charitable. Elizabeth was not sure if any in the room would make it through this evening unscathed. It was clear there would be no Mr. Bingley or Mr. Hurst to buffer any of the tension already think in the air.

Mr. Darcy stood, and thankfully he was dressed more appropriately than the last time Elizabeth had seen him not even two hours previous. "Shall we, ladies?"

As he moved toward the ladies to provide escort to the dining room, he bumped into the side of a table. His expressionless face changed to show a moment of sharp pain and not a little embarrassment for being so clumsy. Elizabeth thought it served him right since he choose to drink all day.

Caroline flitted over to him. "Oh, Mr. Darcy. Please let me assist you to dinner." Caroline was no simpleton. She knew he was still in his cups just as she knew the why the other gentleman were not present. She put her chagrin aside in an effort to show Mr. Darcy she was most capable of overlooking his bad behavior. A wife's place after all was not to chastise her husband.

"Madam, I believe it is my place to escort a lady to dinner." He moved quickly away from Miss Bingley and held his arm to Mrs. Hurst; she was the lady in the room with most precedence, and he quickly walked ahead so Caroline did not attach herself to his other side.

Mr. Darcy did not even spare Elizabeth a glance which was fine by her. She did not want him betraying any of the tenderness he showed her earlier, and it would be unwelcome anyhow. If she did catch his eye, it would be hard for her to keep her ungracious thoughts contained as he had tried her patience with his closeness and then unknowingly and more so with his half-finished letter. She did, however, observe the obvious slight toward Miss Bingley which incited the thought that perhaps dinner would provide some measure of amusement and help overcome her vexation.

The first course was quiet with the sisters talking to each other while Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth avoided all others at the table each focusing on their soup.

After the second course was served, Miss Bingley turned to Miss Elizabeth and asked, "Eliza, pray tell me how you found the books we left for you and Jane?"

Mr. Darcy's head turned toward the women although he clearly was not completely master of himself as he tilted a few degrees in his chair. If the ladies noticed, their faces did not acknowledge it as more pressing business was at hand.

Elizabeth knew this topic was going to be introduced. She was not interested in giving Miss Bingley satisfaction however much she wanted to throw the offending letter on the table and leave all the nonsense of these people behind.

Taking an unconcerned bite of her fish, she answered, "Miss Bingley, thank you for asking. The books you provided were quite sufficient."

Miss Bingley eyed Elizabeth in the same suspicious manner in which Mr. Darcy was now eying the fish he had not touched, and the woman just could not help herself. "Of course you are welcome to borrow whatever you like once you decide to return home, which I suspect should be very soon. Is there anything in particular you found interesting?"

 _This woman is relentless_ , _and Mrs. Hurst's barely concealed haughty glee is doing her severe features no favors_. "Miss Bingley, are you certain your brother would willingly part with the Swift first edition? I should not dream of removing it from his home. Surely you did not intend for that to make it into the selection of books you pulled for us?"

While the puzzlement on Miss Bingley's face clearly demonstrated she had no comprehension of who Jonathan Swift was or what was so concerning, Elizabeth finally had a captive audience in Mr. Darcy for seemingly the first time since she arrived for supper.

Miss Bingley noticed Mr. Darcy's interest. "I dare say _that_ , unlike the others, was mistakenly placed in your chamber. Of course you cannot be permitted to borrow that book, but anything else you find of interest you are well able to keep for a bit of closer examination."

Elizabeth received a smug look, but she had no intent to acknowledge it. "Thank you, but that is not necessary as my father's study is richly stocked with prime reading material. However, please pass my complements to your brother for his literary tastes. The copy of Gulliver's Travels must be quite valuable as I am guessing is the original pamphlet contained within, however, he should take more care of those treasures. I was quite tempted to hide them away in my room; I am sure my father would be most interested to see them."

Miss Bingley looked annoyed as this conversation was not going to plan, and Mr. Darcy for some reason seemed a little sheepish. Elizabeth continued, "Mr. Bingley does not have to worry about me borrowing his books though. I will be most happy to return everything to the library later this evening."

 _Drat it._ Elizabeth noticed a quick smile in her direction from across the table and flushed in frustration more than blush at Mr. Darcy's triumphant look. _The devil will not drag me to that library._ She shot Mr. Darcy a seething glare to send a clear message she retracted any perceived agreement to his inappropriate suggestion of a rendezvous. Unfortunately for her, Mr. Darcy's current state of mind appreciated her rich brown eyes sparkling in anger, and he did not register her silent communication.

Caroline's voice broke the silent battle being waged over the table. "Miss Bennet, anything else of note in the books? You mentioned the pamphlets, so I am sure you saw the other _short work_. I assure you, Louisa and I received quite the amusement in reading it." Both women tittered at this.

"Truly? I am surprised you were not full of disappointment as I am sure the first half quite provided a different perspective for your life." Miss Bingley stopped her little laugh and gave Elizabeth her coldest look. Elizabeth proceeded on with a smile. "I was somewhat entertained in reading it, but I am quite indifferent to the author, so I have no room to be affected one way or the other. I am sorry for you though, and you have my sincerest sympathy. The writing is quite sufficient to cure any disillusionment to hope the reader might have."

Elizabeth noticed Mr. Darcy gazing off and then turning back to soundlessly disparage the fish on his plate. He clearly was not following the subtext of the conversation, and she wondered if he often drank to excess.

"And just what did you do with it after reading Eliza?" Miss Bingley was seething and hardly maintaining control at the underlying affront of Elizabeth's earlier words.

"Well, I placed it in the fire of course." Although Elizabeth did not like to be untruthful, she preferred to let Miss Bingley think the letter destroyed and the matter done with. She also was not fond of society's games of forced politeness. She would much rather be frank and show the full force of her real displeasure, but she smiled and gave a mock salute of her wine glass to her hostess not feeling an ounce of guilt.

"Pardon me, Miss Bennet, you consigned Mr. Bingley's property to the fire? Was it one of the pamphlets you found in the book? I confess I was not following your conversation closely. Surely, I mistake the matter?"

The concern was evident on Mr. Darcy's face as Elizabeth realized the rare book and what was inside must belong to him. She decided his woolgathering earned him an indirect answer. "Sir, you are not mistaken. It was not proper reading material at all. I daresay you would have acted in the same manner I am sure." At that, Elizabeth directed a cool, grim look to Miss Bingley daring her to contradict anything she said.

The last course came to the table, and all the occupants finished the meal in uncomfortable silence. Mr. Darcy stayed at the table consuming more port for a while –he was fully committed to putting himself out of his misery at that point in the evening. And, Mr. Bingley's sisters disdainfully ignored Elizabeth in the drawing room until Mr. Darcy joined them.

He managed to steer clear of all furniture and rather hoped more than was sure that he did not stumble his way to a chair across from Miss Elizabeth.

Turning toward Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy asked if she would favor them with some music.

"Mr. Darcy, I am sure Eliza would be happy to exhibit her charms at the pianoforte. She is after all quite talented and _everything a young woman should be_ , don't you agree?"

Elizabeth responded before Mr. Darcy had an opportunity. "Thank you for the compliment, Miss Bingley. However, your talent far exceeds my own. I concede your entertainment is much more _appropriate_ for Mr. Darcy's enjoyment."

"Dear sister, I do agree you far exceed Miss Bennet, and we would be delighted for you to exhibit your superior skills. Please indulge us, I pray you." At the praise, Miss Bingley turned her most emphatic smile on Darcy while completely overlooking Elizabeth.

As Miss Bingley removed herself to the piano, Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth quietly with questioning eyes and no amount of pleasure. "Madam, please tell me I misunderstood at supper and that you did indeed not burn an original printing of a very important Swift essay. I truly cannot think it of you."

"Then why ask me? And just what had you so distracted, sir, that you cannot answer the question yourself? Just how much have you consumed today that you could truly think such a thing of me? You should have removed yourself with the rest of gentlemen, and you should be much more vigilant with your valuable possessions." _And, that includes any discarded, half-written letters you leave for others and find._

Despite giving him a set-down, she did not detect offense. She could only see the relief on his face and then a sort of contentment. "Miss Elizabeth, the book was in the library. What more fitting place is there? If it was not the essay you threw in the fire, exactly what were you talking of then? I truly do not think your passion for the written word would allow you to destroy any book much less property belonging to someone else. Pray forgive for even asking, but I was most baffled."

"It is of no concern." _I should feel guilty at such lie._ Despite his apology, her reply was cool. More than anything she wanted to produce the letter still tucked under pillow and make him account for his words and for attempting to trifle with her. She held her temper and forced a polite smile. "As soon as Miss Bingley is finished, I am going to see to my sister. Pray, excuse me."

"Come now, you will not leave and cast me into the lion's den?" With only his eyes, he tossed a glance in the direction of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

"Sir, I must check on my sister, and I shall remind you that it would be most unseemly to follow me. May your God rescue you."**

"Please convey my regards to Miss Bennet. While you leave me to fend for myself, I shall pray for deliverance although I do think it should come from God." His eyes lit up giving her a half-smile. She did her best to push any flutterings away thinking she could not allow herself to be taken in by such a man.

"Sir, if you are found blameless before the almighty and have escaped the lion's mouth by the time I return shortly with Jane, then perhaps you may convey your regards in person. I am not depending upon it though, and God is your only hope of rescue. If you are looking to me, I will never unseal the stone and prefer to leave you to your fate." She gave a significant to Miss Bingley at the pianoforte.

She moved closer to the door, and Darcy realized that what she was not depending upon was him being found blameless. He felt guilty at that, and it settled upon him there was a long road ahead. If they were both honest, neither was blameless in what transpired the other night in the library, and their relief rested with each other and the commitment of marriage.

Although not the strongest facet of his character, he had a great capacity for patience and thought it would only take her a little time to realize he was perfectly serious. Surely once she realized he would eschew the duty to his family in favor of his honor, she would see the benefit of becoming his wife. If all else failed, there was always the solution of paying a visit to her father. After a moment's reflection of how that conversation would go, he dismissed that option and decided he would have to have to make sure she came to him willingly.

Miss Bingley finished her performance on the instrument with an angry flare in disapproval of Mr. Darcy's clearly intimate conversation with Elizabeth, and the Elizabeth excused herself with a curtsey and went to fetch her sister.

MR. BINGLEY AWOKE FROM HIS stupor to a dark, cold room. He stretched and recalled the most pleasant dreams involving a certain lady residing in a bed somewhere within his home. He could not feel more excited, unless of course he could go to her. That would certainly be more exciting, he thought.

He stoked the fire and was finally able to read the clock realizing dinner was most likely just concluding. Leaving the room to dress thinking he felt well refreshed having slept off much, if not all, the effects of the alcohol he a Darcy had downed earlier in the day, he broke down laughing and slapping his knee recalling the fun he had with his friend over the afternoon.

Darcy's impression of a professor they had shared was still spot on all these years later. Chuckling to himself more and about to fall down in such a state, he realized he was not as sober as he deemed himself to be.

As Bingley passed Jane's door, he stopped and pressed his forehead to the cool surface. What he would give to open the door and just catch a glimpse. She was the most beautiful woman he had known and ever wanted to hold, but at the moment he just wanted to see her well and happy.

He wondered at what was keeping him from opening the door, or at the very least knocking. He did not actually have to step into the room, but perhaps it was not a total violation of propriety to at least stand at the door to say hello and ask after her health. It was now Friday, and he had not seen her since Tuesday when she first took ill. Knowing she was so close was unbearable.

Looking down the dark corridor and seeing no servants, he lightly knocked on the door. A sweet voice called for him to enter. Gathering his courage, he opened the door.

He was stupefied, and she was divine – she stood there with a slight flush over her porcelain skin, puffs of white fabric cascading from her high neckline, and blond wavy locks flowing down to her waist.

After meeting her at the assembly, he thought she was an angel, and now the proof was staring him in the face with doe-like eyes the color of the sky on a cloudless day. He did not even feel guilty for intruding on her privacy because the goodness radiating from her was so great it swallowed him whole.

He determined right then and there he would throw himself at her feet if necessary to have her as his wife if she were gracious enough to cast him mercy.

She did not move as she felt like an animal caught in a leg trap, and he just stood in awe until finally the liquor and his weakness for her caused him to stumble forward. He caught himself which finally broke Jane's daze as she brightly smiled up to him forgetting the panic at seeing him open the door.

Mr. Bingley was still entranced as if he was drifting toward a light that beckoned him home… a home he did not realize he had until that moment. Charles threw up a prayer begging to prove himself worthy of her. He was admittedly enamored the moment he met Jane, but now he knew in the farthest recess of his soul there would never be another.

He did not register he left the door open as he stumbled in the room, and neither occupant realized the servant passing in the corridor dutifully turning her head away. There was no room in his heart or mind to care about anyone else at this moment, there was only the woman before him. Coming to stand in front of her being pulled by her smile, he dared to touch her and soothed a brow. "How are you, dearest Jane?"

Her initial shock as he came closer turned to rapture as he touched her face. Closing her eyes and turning into his palm, she whispered she was much better. Jane could not believe Charles was in her room, door wide open for all to see, and thus admitting to the world he seemingly now possessed the right to be there. His presence overcame any need to care for anything else – propriety, her illness, his sisters, her family – in that moment she only cared to remain close to him.

She had been weak and weary the past several days and lately full of worry over her sister. His touch was pure and sweet going straight to her heart to melt all of her concerns away.

"You should be in bed resting, my love."

Jane's knees almost gave out at his declaration, but he steadied her. She could not respond with anything other than, "I love you, Charles."

Five minutes later and all was settled. Jane and Charles decided they would have the first reading of the banns in two days' time. He decided to ask for Mr. Bennet's blessing the next day, but no matter the answer, the couple would be forsaking all others as Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bigley.

ELIZABETH FROZE UPON WALKING through the open door to her sister's room. Mr. Bingley had tenderly embraced Jane's hand bestowing a kiss on her palm. The lovers were oblivious to her entrance.

"Jane?"

Jane and Mr. Bingley did not flinch before turning their happy faces to Elizabeth. Jane rushed toward her sister embracing her. "Oh, Lizzy, Charles and I are to be married."

As soon as Jane released her sister, Mr. Bingley was so excited that he stepped in and gave Elizabeth a sisterly embrace not even registering her reaction. "Your sister has made me the happiest of men."

The pure joy exuding from them both made it impossible for Elizabeth to question why Mr. Bingley felt it proper offer a proposal in her sister's bed chamber. She supposed a moment such as this was the only one Jane would likely have, so there was no need to be anything other than excited for them both.

"My sincerest congratulations. Do you think perhaps we should share your news with the others? Everyone except Mr. Hurst remains in the drawing room, and I am sure they will be delighted to learn your news. Jane, we should get you dressed." Jane and Mr. Bingley were unaware of Elizabeth's purpose which was getting Mr. Bingley out of her sister's bed chamber. Apparently the men residing in this house had no regard for proper behavior. _It is no wonder Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are such friends._

"Dearest Jane, should I seek your father before we announce it further? I am at your command."

Jane laughed such a happy laugh that tears came out of her eyes. "Charles, I think it is perfectly acceptable announce our wonderful news to your sisters as I have told mine." Mr. Bingley stepped toward his betrothed and wiped her cheek.

As the initial shock was wearing down, Elizabeth was overjoyed at seeing her sister so loved. "Mr. Bingley, may I suggest you leave us so Jane may dress for company?"

Mr. Bingley bowed over Jane's hand and again kissed her palm with Elizabeth as witness. "Be quick, my love." The stab of jealousy was wholly unexpected and Elizabeth tried to clear her heart at she ushered Mr. Bingley out the door.

"Oh, Lizzy, how am I to live with such happiness? I can hardly contain it. Can a person go mad with such joy?"

"Somehow, Janie, I think you will manage," laughed Elizabeth. "I daresay I received such a shock seeing him in your room, but I am so overjoyed that you are getting your heart's desire. There is no one more deserving of all the love and devotion in the world than you dear sister."

Elizabeth had never meant her words more than she did at that moment and continued, "Well, dearest, although Mr. Bingley has now seen you in your nightgown and with your hair down, I suppose your betrothed would not appreciate any other man seeing such a tempting sight. Let us find you a dress and pin your hair." Elizabeth pinched Jane's side making her laugh, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Lizzy, as mother packed my trunk, I venture my nightgown is probably more appropriate anyhow as it covers more."

Lizzy removed a gown from the wardrobe for inspection. Looking at the silk with a daringly low bodice, she said, "You know our mother quite well. You may borrow my wrap for the evening so you do not have to wear your pelisse to keep Mr. Bingley's wondering gaze in check."

"I will have you know that though he came to my room, and very much uninvited, he was a perfect gentlemen. He only kissed my hand, but Elizabeth, I cannot describe to you how amazing it all was. I have never felt so connected to another person or so cherished. My happiness in marriage is not a question in my mind. We have decided to have the banns read on Sunday and then we will marry the day after they are called for the final time. Neither of us are willing to delay. Just think, on the second of December, I shall be Mrs. Charles Bingley."

Elizabeth felt much at this speech. In the work moment, she was no longer the most important person to her sister. She also could not comprehend how her sister was so sure of a man she had only known for a month. And finally, she questioned the wisdom of such a short engagement period. She did not imagine her father, and especially her mother, agreeing to a wedding before the year was out.

Elizabeth could read the pure delight within her sister though, and she realized her opinions did not matter in this situation, so she commanded herself to enthusiastically share in her sister's joy.

As Elizabeth led Jane toward the stairs, they noticed Mr. Bingley waiting, his appearance being as much repaired as Jane's.

In hushed tones, Jane said, "Oh, Lizzy, is he not the most handsome man?"

"Jane, you have not been engaged an hour, and now you are prattling on about your handsome man in the same manner as Lydia might. Another hour, and you will have no sense left."

"Lizzy, one day you will lose your head over a man, and then you will have to bite your tongue as I will not refrain from reminding you of this conversation."

"If I lose my head over a man, please take me out back and shoot me like a rabid dog for there will be no hope for me."

With that, Mr. Bingley stepped toward the ladies, took the arm of his beloved, and escorted the happy sisters to an unsuspecting Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, and Mr. Darcy.

*This is a reference from Genesis 3:16.

**This is a reference from Daniel 6:16-20.

* * *

 **A/N** : My apologies for a posting delay. To the guest reviewer, don't be sad! I can empathize though, I get so anxious for new chapters to the stories I follow.

I've added a recap and will continue to do so when I take longer than a couple of days to post a new chapter. Let me know if I can be briefer.

I've explained that I do not care for the title but will not change it while the story is posted on this site. I have found a quote by Sigmund Freud that does help explain what I'm trying to convey and thought I'd share it.

"Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways."

I'm not a subscriber to all of Freud's research / work, but I have personally experienced the above, and so will both Darcy and Elizabeth.

Thank you again for all of your reviews. You are all very kind to overlook the errors and see my intent. Also, I really do appreciate the feedback when someone notices a glaring error. Please feel free to leave it in the comments or send me a PM.

Hope everyone is having a great holiday weekend so far!


	10. Chapter 10

"Charles, you cannot be serious."

"Caroline, I am perfectly serious, and I expect you to wish us joy." Mr. Bingley gave a sharp look toward his sister and again took the hand of his lady and kissed it with a warmth for all in the room to see.

Elizabeth looked to Mr. Darcy to take in his reaction. He said the proper thing, but she did not detect much sincerity or much of anything behind his words. Mr. Bingley was too full of joy to read much into his friend's words as he did Caroline's. Elizabeth looked to Jane hoping she was fooled as well. The displeasure radiating from Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley was already enough to hurt Jane's heart.

Charles finally picked up on the tension in the room and asked his youngest sister for some celebratory music hoping to lighten the mood.

Caroline was unwilling to forego the chance to have her own tête-à-tête with Mr. Darcy over the shocking news proclaimed by her brother. Sweetly, and after checking her tone, she said, "Charles, you will have to excuse me as I performed before you joined us. I would not hover over the instrument all night. Perhaps Miss Eliza can favor us instead?"

"I would be most pleased to play for you all." With that, Elizabeth moved to the pianoforte, and in doing so, gave her sister a smile full of hope and delight which did much to brighten Jane's face.

Watching Miss Bingley slither closer, Mr. Darcy jumped to his feet making his way to his escape to where Elizabeth sat sifting through sheet music.

Truly, he wanted to give Miss Bingley the cut direct but decided that could wait until he was not at her mercy as his hostess. Up to that point in the evening, her presence had induced several moments of rage that only Elizabeth seemed to temper, and he decided to go seek his solace again.

"Madam, might I assist and turn the pages?"

Elizabeth raised a brow looking to him, then to Miss Bingley, and then back to him. "If you must, sir."

Instead of standing to her side, he sat next to her on the bench. She did not even attempt to hide her face from him as she rolled her eyes shifting in her seat to purchase as much distance as possible.

Elizabeth selected an arrangement of a piano concerto in D major which she knew very well as it was one of the more difficult pieces she could play with some credit, and she thought it appropriate for the occasion since Jane favored it.

After a few measures, she quietly asked, "Sir, what is your purpose? If it is intimidation, I must tell you I own the imperfections in my playing and do not need you to come all this way to make them any more obvious." She then missed a note.

"Miss Elizabeth, why must you think so ill of my intentions? I thought I have made them very clear. And, I find no fault with you or your playing – it all that is lovely and perfect." In a voice for her alone, he added, "As are you," and moved his leg so that it was closer to hers.

She missed a several notes which caught the attention and subsequent glare of Miss Bingley. Mrs. Hurst's face showed the offence to her perfectly pitched ears.

Mr. Darcy was still suffering somewhat from all the drink earlier in the day, not to mention the port after dinner, and therefore was completely oblivious to the mistakes in the music. His focus was on the warmth and delicious scent wafting off her.

She smelled like the garden at Pemberley on a sunny spring afternoon. Oh, how he would like to walk with her there. He could imagine her dancing happily around the flowers while he chased after her, eventually catching her and pinning her to the cool mossy wall of the house. His sigh was audible.

Mr. Bingley nor Jane seemed to notice Elizabeth's blundering fingers as they were clearly ensconced in their own world across the room.

It was obvious to Miss Bingley there were a _pair_ of lovers in the room. If the steam rolling around in her head had escaped her ears, it would have sounded like a tea kettle at a boil. Mrs. Hurst noticed not only all of Elizabeth's mistakes but also the unabashed admiration in the room, and she felt let out. Her oaf of a husband had passed out after using her quite indecorously upstairs before supper; he never wooed her in private let alone in public.

"Sir, for you to say I and my playing are all that is perfect indicates you are most likely tone deaf and most certainly do not know me well at all. I would not have taken you as such a flatterer two days previous, for I know as fact that you do indeed find fault in me."

"Miss Elizabeth, I do not know of what you think you know. But, until two days ago, I would say I perhaps did not know myself as well as I once thought." For all his confidence, normal reserve, and even drunkenness on this day, she could feel, if not see, the hint of innocence and shyness as he said this.

"Well, Mr. Darcy, I further say none of us are perfect, so I will give you leeway."

"I stand by my assertion." He reached over and turned the page brushing her arm, and she stumbled again as if intentionally proving her fault.

Stumbling a bit further through a more difficult passage in the music, she attempted to lighten the mood between them.

"Mr. Darcy, since you clearly portend to not be acquainted with my faults, then I will let you wallow in ignorance. But, do not assume I place you on the same pedestal." She could not help an arch smile toward him.

"Have no fear on that score madam. I am well aware you have enough to count against me. I do believe I promised a proper apology at a later time and will make amends."

She turned her head back to the music as she started the next movement, and she gave in to her thoughts as the tempo slowed to a larghetto. Mr. Darcy seemed to be lost in his own mind as well.

Elizabeth recalled the letter and how he stated he had no wish to marry. Thusly, she concluded his behavior indicated he that was only toying with her. Originally, she thought it was his honor that made him immediately speak of marriage in the library that night. She knew better now. It was not that she had any hopes for the man, but if she were being honest, she was not indifferent to him. What bothered her at first was that his so-called honor failed to call to hers. She enjoyed the physical part of what they shared but wanted to leave things there – in that library and in the past. Now she found it disgusting he seemed to continue his pursuit using his honorable intentions as an excuse when she was certain he had none. He was a confirmed bachelor, and she dismissed his claim that he had never kissed another. Therefore, it was a high possibility that he was a practiced seducer, albeit a rather reserved one, but perhaps that was part of his craft. _How dense must he take me to believe such innocence in a man of his age and when he has clear proficiency in the art as well?_

"I have faults a plenty although I normally take great care to avoid what might be considered ridiculous and immoral… believe it or not."

She started at his words as she had lost herself in the study of the music and his character.

Mr. Darcy realized he spoke his own musings aloud and startled his companion. He hurriedly turned the pages to catch up to her current place.

He was impressed as she clearly knew this piece by memory. Likewise, she was impressed as he clearly knew how to read music since he easily found her place in the sheet music. "My apologies for interrupting you, Miss Elizabeth."

"It is no bother, sir." She thought a moment as she prolonged an improvised trill and then started again. "And, sir, what would you consider your greatest fault?" _Seducing young women?_

She felt his posture become rigid as he took in a deep breath. She did not see his gaze settle on Miss Bingley as he started.

"My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding – certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever."

Whatever Elizabeth was expecting him to say, that was not it. She was not expecting such seriousness or austerity. He was a complicated man, and she was reminded to stay clear of any entanglements with him by the imperious tone of his voice. Her hands stopped at the end of his speech and she looked to his face trying to read what was there. "That is great indeed."

He looked toward the keyboard and pressed his leg closer resting against hers from foot to hip. "I believe Herr Mozart intended one more movement. Shall you oblige him?"

She started the next chapter of the concerto in allegretto which matched the tempo of her breathing when his leg laid against her own – the thinness of her skirt did nothing to insulate his heat. The rushed meter of the final movement gave her an excuse to concentrate on her fingering and escape Mr. Darcy's conversation. As much as she wanted to ask him about his reaction to his friend's engagement and what he meant by telling her of his resentment, she thought it best to leave well enough alone. Additionally, if Miss Bingley's glares could inflict bodily harm, she would be on the floor in a heap. She decided her silence was required to avoid bodily harm.

Elizabeth finished her performance, moved to a corner giving the message she did not wish to be followed, and sat there allowing Jane a little more time with Mr. Bingley before she called her sister to retire for the evening. She did not look in Mr. Darcy's direction.

AN HOUR LATER, ELIZABETH SAT upon her bed still dressed and distressed as she was earlier in the evening. She was glad Mr. Bingley agreed to accompany them home in the morning as it meant she could leave Mr. Darcy's presence. She loved to study an intricate character but the study of him came at too great a cost.

The hard look in his face as she teasingly asked about his faults made her feel cold in her chest which was then quickly abated by the warmth from his lower body pressed to hers. When he first sat next to her, she accused him of intimidation as a jest, and she now realized he could probably do a credible job of it if she allowed him.

Despite her thinking of his ability to be stern and imposing, she was not ready to capitulate to his hypocrisy when it came to her. Although she did not welcome his suit, if she could call it that, she could not stop dwelling on his proclaimed intent toward her which was greatly contrasted by the words in the letter she held in her hand.

Examining the masculine script again, she noticed how he had crossed out the last line in which he referred to her as inappropriate. Perhaps he realized how disrespectful such an assertion would be to her? Even still, she could not forgive him the mortification of being discussed in his private correspondence with his family and in such terms as to belittle her. Did he really think he was so above her?

She knew he was of the first circles, but she was landed gentry just as he was. She came from a long line of Bennet blood and took pride in her family name just as he did. Her family was the primary landowner in the –shire just as she assumed his family was. However, the blow to her pride did not allow for the disparity between barely owning the most land in a county full of small parcels and actually owning half of a much larger county.

Her normally sharp mind did not even consider that while her family could boast the greatest share of land in Hertfordshire by no more than a few acres, it was certainly not the most profitable estate compared its neighbors.

As she turned over the note in her hand again, she realized she must truly consign it to the flames or return it to its owner before she left on the morrow. It would do no good to be discovered among her things by Kitty or Lydia as they always rummaged through her chambers looking for any scrap of fabric or ribbon they could pillage.

Elizabeth wanted to watch his letter burn and with it the offence it caused, but the rational part of her mind prevailed thinking that he had on some level written of admiration for her, and more importantly, the letter was his private correspondence. Although she was indeed a subject on the paper, it was not her property to destroy.

Taking a deep breath and pulling herself off the warm bed, she decided this was her only chance to return this misplaced piece of paper to its rightful owner and be afforded some parting shots before taking her leave. She wrapped herself in her yellow shawl gathering his book with the aged copy of the Jonathon Swift essay. She made her way to the library.

MR. JOHNSON STOOD AT attention in a darkened recess outside the library. Fitzwilliam entered the library an hour previous and had not yet left. He was thinking to check on Fitzwilliam just as he saw Miss Elizabeth exit her room. He slinked further in the shadow of the niche as not to be seen. When she entered the library, he quietly followed deciding to give his master a minute or two with the potential new mistress before _innocently_ stumbling upon the pair.

ELIZABETH ENTERED THE library and shivered. Pulling her wrap tighter, she exhaled and could slightly make out the vapor of her own breath. The fire barely burned and the wind howled outside the extensive glazing along the north wall. She looked around finally spying a peaceful looking Mr. Darcy on the same couch they had shared two evenings ago. _Of course he would be asleep_.

Placing the books on the adjacent table and clutching his letter in her hands, she studied the form below her. It was very cold, but he only showed a slight chill in his sleep. His face looked calm and boyish, and she thought it impossible to deny how handsome his strong features were when relaxed with such a look of contentment and when tendrils of dark hair swept across his forehead. His dark lashes were quite long for a man although she had not studied such a thing before. Looking at his lips, she could not believe she had kissed them, and she raised her hand to her own mouth. From somewhere came an urge to feel his lips upon hers again, and she straightened putting that thought to the side.

As much as she came to the library to give this man a piece of her mind, she found she was not cruel enough to wake him. She saw him quiver a bit as he seemed to wrap himself up in his jacket more so than he was already. It was just not possible as the coat was already close fitting to his broad shoulders, and Elizabeth recalled earlier in the day when those shoulders were more exposed through the fine lawn of his shirt – his fully exposed waistcoat only served to accentuate a trim waste and did nothing to hide the expanse of his chest.

Elizabeth shoved the letter in her dress – she would not be so careless with it and would only place it directly back into his awake hands. Looking around she spotted a lap rug draped over a brocaded winged-back chair and brought it to the sleeping man in front of her. _Why not? I cannot leave him here to the cold, and I most certainly do not want to wake him._ Gingerly, Elizabeth placed the rug over Mr. Darcy, and looking almost satisfied with her work, she bent over to tuck the edges around his legs and chest. If she could kiss him two nights ago in this same spot, then surely it was okay to cover him with a blanket since no one was watching.

Mr. Darcy suddenly moved sputtering something incoherent, and before Elizabeth knew it, her hand was within his. He rolled to his side burrowing himself in the rug taking Elizabeth's hand with him pulling her forward. To her further surprise, he kissed it and then started to snore.

She thought she heard what sounded like a laugh from behind a bookshelf but found no one as she looked around from her stooped-over position. _This is the last time I am kind to this man._ Gently tugging her hand from his grasp, she found herself stuck while he tightened his grip in response to her pulling away. She checked to see if he was really sleeping by waving her other hand in front of his face. His lack of response, continual deep breathing, and the light snoring sound proved he was well passed out. _I hope he has a horribly aching head the next day_.

To distract him while in his slumber and to silence the annoying sound he was emitting, she thought to put her fingertips to his face. Thinking it would cause him to turn toward her touch, her arm could then release from his grasp. When she gently laid her fingers on his cheek, she was not prepared for the smile he produced nor the words he mumbled in a dreamlike tone, "come to bed sweet Lizzy."

Her touch lingered due to her astonishment, and he turned to his back which did in fact release her arm to which she then lost her balance falling on her rump. It was all too much for her untested emotions.

She scurried up from the floor and fled to the door only to run into the chest of a man even taller than Mr. Darcy. It was a servant.

She took a steadying breath ready to plead for mercy that he not relay to anyone of finding her in such a dark room after the house had retired. _At least I am properly attired_. Her mind went to finding Mr. Bingley and a nightgowned Jane earlier in the evening.

"Be not alarmed, Madam." He gave her bow. "I was just coming to find my wayward charge."

Elizabeth looked up quite thankful he seemed like a sensible older man with a kind smile, but she was confused at his speech.

She immediately thought she liked this servant and could not help arching her brow at his insinuation. "Mr. Darcy?"

"The very one. I am guessing he has again taken to sleeping in the library. The boy never could withstand the pull of a good book. He has fallen asleep in the library since he was a lad. I have suggested he set up a cot in his own libraries, but he seems to prefer a chair or a couch though they are much too small for his frame."

Elizabeth could not understand why this man was talking so freely of his employer and to her no less – it was not proper. Perhaps Mr. Darcy did not have such tight reign over his servants? "He is asleep over there in the corner. I was just returning some books as I am to leave in the morning. I did not expect to run into any servants as I thought most everyone abed. Pray excuse me. " _There. That is not a lie and explains my presence_.

Mr. Johnson only looked at her questioningly in the same manner her father did when she was providing the truth as it was convenient to her. She took comfort that this servant also seemed to have the same sardonic look in his eyes, so perhaps he would not hold the offence of a half-truth against her. She very well knew not _everyone_ was abed or at least within their _own_ beds as Mr. Darcy seemed to prefer the cramped fainting couch.

"Miss Bennet?" Mr. Johnson's quiet voice stopped her retreat.

"Yes?"

"You have my assurance that no one will be the wiser to your presence here tonight. And, I thank you for your kindness to Fitzwilliam. It is quite cold."

Elizabeth blushed to the roots of her hair, gave a nod of acknowledgement, and mouthed a "thank you" as she made straight for the door.

"Miss Bennet?"

She did not want to turn around this time but did so anyway. She was polite and applied her better manners equally to all that deserved such – servant or not – dark library or not. Giving a tight smile to the older man, she replied, "Yes?"

"Please forgive my manner, but I cannot let you leave without telling you that regardless of his behavior today, Fitzwilliam is a moral, upright man and not prone to overindulgence. He is well on his way to becoming the best of men as was father. Please give that consideration."

She again gave a nod and fled the room. Feeling so mortified, she was half-tempted to brave the dark and escape to the comfort of home that very moment. _Howling wind and confusing men be damned_.

MR. DARCY WOKE IN HIS BED without recalling how he got there. It was late in the morning, and the pounding in his head would not cease. He stood and wondered to window just in time to see Bingley's carriage pull out into the drive.

Sitting down, he gave great consideration to crawling back into the bed covers. He did not understand how Bingley and Gilbert managed an aching head so often and was well reminded why he normally limited himself to just a glass or two of brandy or port in the evenings. He promised himself another year at least before indulging in drunkenness again. He laid back down taking comfort in the soft bedding trying to stamp out the light and pounding with a soft down pillow wrapped over his head.

Mr. Johnson opened the door with a glass in his hand which contained a thick liquid releasing an offensive odor.

"Mr. Johnson, I do believe I will stay in bed with a pillow over my head for the rest of the day before I drink whatever that is in your hand. I can smell it under here. And, please spare me your judgement."

"Sir, I believe my judgement is uncalled for at a time like this, but you would do well to lean on my experience with such matters."

Darcy pulled the pillow away. He could not under any circumstances imagine Mr. Johnson drinking himself into such a headache.

"Experience? I have not known you to drink, Mr. Johnson." Darcy was eyeing his valet and the drink suspiciously.

"I do not bother with the stuff now, Mr. Darcy. I know this is not the same restorative Mrs. Reynolds or Mrs. Sharp may concoct, but I trust it will serve you well." He held out the glass.

Darcy decided he may as well drink it and get his day started. He could not recall the last time he had slept past ten in the morning.

Holding his nose, he swigged the green liquid down in one gulp. "Damnation that is foul. What in heavens did you put in that glass?"

Mr. Johnson handed Mr. Darcy a glass of water, and replied, "Sir, it may be best if you do not know."

"Very well. I plan to go for a long ride this morning after I have breakfast." Recalling that the Bennet women were leaving today, he realized the carriage he saw from the window most likely carried them within. "I will have a tray here, please."

Thinking of Elizabeth, he then recalled all of the previous day and felt such a dread wash over him he had to sit back down. How embarrassing it was that he lost his inhibitions and control in front of his future wife. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach chastised him for the behavior he could not recall too clearly, but he knew the previous day was not the finest example of his character and was quite disappointed with himself.

Thinking over his afternoon with Bingley though did bring a chuckle – they had acted like two lads still in university for most the afternoon. His mirth died when he recalled what was said of Miss Bingley. How dare she attempt to compromise him, and how dare his valet keep such a thing to himself. Calming down the redirected anger he felt, he decided to deal with Miss Bingley, Mr. Johnson, and his friend later. Particularly for Miss Bingley, it was time she reaped the consequences the behavior she had sown.

It suddenly struck him that his friend was now engaged. Darcy shook his head at his friend's hastiness. Although Darcy admired and respected his friend greatly, he also thought him to be immature at times. In Darcy's mind, an impulsive marriage to a woman Bingley had known not over a month was just another example of how much further his friend needed to grow in order to become a true gentleman land owner capable of making such weighty decisions.

Unfortunately, Darcy failed to realize the hypocrisy as his next thoughts drifted to securing his own speedy marriage.

Despite feeling guilt and shame for his unseemly behavior the day before towards Elizabeth, his mind was made up to have her. His obligation was a foregone conclusion when lost control that night, and he resolved to be happy at securing a beautiful, intelligent woman for a wife. Her less than finer qualifications, namely her family, could be mitigated well enough with time and distance. _Did not Stephen marry below his station? Ruth's family has wealth but no connections of merit._

Darcy was planning to leave for Matlock to join his sister for the Christmastide season, so he would have to make quick work of a courtship and engagement. Thinking through the fog of yesterday, he knew he had done nothing yet worthy to win her affections.

 _Just a moment, did I truly suggest an assignation in the Library_? Feeling disgusted with himself all over again, for he was not a rake, he was grateful she had the sense not to join him. _More sense than I clearly have._ They had already crossed his imposed limits once, and though he thought that was the most sublime, perfect experience of his life, he knew it should not happen again until they were at least engaged.

The remembrance of having her in his arms flowed through his body causing an ache that he knew could only be fulfilled one day by her, and in no time, he was off across the fields at a breakneck speed towards Longbourn.

 **A/N:** And so the courtship begins… or at least what Darcy thinks a courtship should be! Don't worry, he is clueless, but somethings are natural… like him always getting what he wants as well as very deep attraction taking its course.

Sorry – no recap since this post only lags a couple days since the last.

Thank you for the reviews! They **really, really** encourage me, so please let me know what you think.

To the guest reviewer who was curious to Jane and Bingley getting engaged so quickly – please PM if you would like to know. I would have replied, but I can't reply to a guest review. There are two very important reasons, but I don't want to put any spoilers out via the chapter updates. I will answer any PM though.

Thank god we are out of Netherfield. I'm ready for some other players to enter the stage!

Oh, and obviously I acknowledge none of JA's words as my own. The credit is to her brilliant mind.


	11. Chapter 11

**Recap:** For a recap of chapters 1-8 – go straight to chapter nine.

Chapter 9-10: Lizzy was at Netherfield. Darcy got drunk and practically propositioned her to meet in the library (again) and then flirted with her at the piano in the drawing room which caused Miss B(word) to almost stroke out. Lizzy is PO'd about Darcy proclaiming his bachelorhood and referring to her in the letter as not worthy of his hand in marriage (despite all the other nice things he wrote)… which is pretty confusing for our girl since he suggested marriage after attacking her mouth like a teenage boy a few nights previous. And, he has been laying the whole honorable intentions thing on kind of thick. She wrongly concludes he is a drunk rake. The awesome Mr. Johnson attempts to correct her misconception. The jury is still out on what Lizzy thinks - for god's sake, she is a twenty year old woman who just got her first kiss – i.e. she is kind of a mess at the moment despite her normal (perceived) good sense. Darcy feels terrible at being a drunk ahole (haven't we all experienced hangover remorse?) but is still determined to make Lizzy his wife out of duty to the whole " _I am a gentleman and will right all of my wrongs_ ". He rides like the wind after her. Oh, and, Bingley, empowered by a little liquid courage, stopped all the BS by asking Jane to marry him. It was inevitable anyhow.

* * *

IT WAS A CLEAR Saturday morning, and Mr. Bennet just entered the gates of Longbourn returning from his weekly visit with the tenants that farmed the west boundary. One family had a particular need of him this morning that was rather unpleasant.

Mr. Bennet did not evade the responsibilities that came with owning an estate, but more often than not, he carried out his duties with resignation. It was draining to care for all of those under his influence and authority – there were the tenants, the servants, the parson, the neighbors, and his own family – so many burdens. He preferred quandaries to be in written form and of the fictional variety, not of the type based in reality.

He was the man that everyone looked to when there was a problem they could not solve on their own. This particular morning's visit with the Taylor family was a prime example of why he despised bearing the weight of everyone's concerns. If he did not do his duty to best remedy this issue, then a great conflict may erupt on his estate. He could not afford something of that nature going into these winter months.

Samuel Taylor's family had farmed Longbourn for several generations. He was a good man with a good wife. They had produced a bevy of young daughters, a hand very similar to the one Mr. Bennet was dealt.

Although Taylor's daughters were pretty girls, much like his own, Mr. Bennet discovered this morning that not all the Taylor girls were quite as innocent as his Jane, Lizzy, Mary, Kitty, and Liddy. The eldest girl, not yet eighteen, would become a mother by the spring, and the new father, the eldest son of the Saunders family, who also farmed the estate, was not to be found.

Mr. Bennet pledged to assist the search for the wayward youth and hoped to broker a marriage between the Taylor girl and the Saunders boy. In exchange for assistance, Samuel Taylor gave Mr. Bennet an oath to abstain from violence once young Saunders was found.

It was a depressing business to carry the weight of other's problems, but Mr. Bennet did his best. He thanked the gods or whatever deity that his own daughters seemed to stay out of such troubles. They were all good girls despite talking too much of fashion and gossip.

However, he was not best pleased about the shift of his daughter's discussions of late. All the talk of officers was severely trying. But, he found peace in the fact he could not seriously see one of his daughters choosing that kind of life for themselves – they enjoyed their little luxuries of new dresses, servants, and idleness too much. And, though silly as they could be, he knew them better than to end up in a situation like Samuel's eldest. They were gentleman's daughters and knew their obligations did not allow for anything more than mild flirting unless a courtship was sanctioned.

Mr. Bennet thought eventually keeping a closer eye on Lydia would be warranted when she was a little older. His youngest still had a couple of years before her silliness put her at risk, and the others seemed to have way more sense than to end up with a child before wedlock. He shuddered at the thought before his mind turned toward his wife when she was their age, and he pushed away any guilt he felt.

He was not old enough to be a grandfather anytime soon at six and forty, and his daughters were nowhere near the marriage state anyhow. He gave a silent prayer of gratitude. His wife always carried on about their future marital states, and there was his new gentleman neighbor that Jane seemed to favor, but he did not see an inclination for marriage there since Mr. Bingley seemed rather young and flighty. He knew his Elizabeth would someday be taken from him by a great man, but there were no men of worth in the vicinity. And, he would not even consider a courtship for his younger daughters any time in the near future. His wife rattled on about beaus for their daughters, but she was always prone to her dramatics.

For now, he was safe. Thinking of his daughters, he wished for the return of the eldest two soon and considered riding over to Netherfield if they were not safely home by the morrow.

These were Mr. Bennet's considerations as he walked from the stable to his study. He entered it to find a nervous young Bingley abruptly rising from a chair and executing a bow.

"MR. BINGLEY, WHAT brings you here, is it my daughter? Is she still unwell? My wife assured me she was on the mend."

Mr. Bingley did not respond, and that provoked the natural worry every parent feels when their concern for the welfare of their children is not being satisfied. "Speak, man!"

Mr. Bennet's shout finally spurred action in Bingley's voice. "Sir, Jane is much recovered." He then resumed his seat though uninvited by his host.

"Young man, you shall watch your address of my daughter. Now, how may I help you? May I presume you have returned my children?" Mr. Bennet would have thanked him for their return and for his hospitality toward Jane and Elizabeth, but he did not appreciate the man using his daughter's name so casually.

"Yes, I brought both Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth home in my carriage while I provided escort on horseback. A maid was also brought along and has since returned to Netherfield with my carriage."

"Very good. I have much business to attend this morning, so I will call for Mrs. Hill, and she will see you out." Mr. Bennet sat and reached for the bell, but Mr. Bingley's voice stopped him from giving the rope a shake.

"Sir, I would ask for a few more moments of your time."

Deciding the quickest way to get some peace was to hear the man out, Mr. Bennet indulged the gentleman in front of him with a nod.

Bingley stood, took a deep breath, and gave Mr. Bennet a smile before he said, "Sir, Jane has made me the happiest of men and agreed to be my bride. I have come to seek your blessing."

Mr. Bennet clutched his chest feeling a shot to the heart. He blinked rapidly, looking for the god Hermes to march him to the underworld; instead, he only saw the fair-haired Mr. Bingley sitting across the desk looking as scared as Mr. Bennet felt. The older gentleman quickly reasoned he survived this near-fatal attack and needed to counter immediately.

Scrambling to his feet, Mr. Bennet came out from behind the desk with words as his only weapon. "You, sir, must have also have succumbed to the fever circulating the neighborhood. You are young and foolish, but surely you have more sense than to accost a man such as myself in this fashion."

"Sir, Mr. Bennet, I mean in all seriousness – " Bingley's attempt to interject was silenced as Mr. Bennet continued.

"Mr. Bingley, you are gravely, gravely mistaken. You are a fool to think you can enter into an engagement with _MY_ daughter without a proper courtship and much more time under my evaluation. She was a guest in your house, and you bring her back to me engaged? You are no gentleman to take advantage of a young woman residing in your care. Have you no morals? Are you mad thinking a father would allow such thing? It would be best for you to leave now, sir. Perhaps in a year, you will be ready to take the proper steps to court _my_ _Jane_. Good day, sir."

Mr. Bennet was red in the face as he was not used to shouting in such a manner and refused to look at the lad in front his desk. He could not believe his daughter would agree to such a scheme while in her sick bed residing in that man's house. Mr. Bingley must have taken advantage of the situation, and he should have taken his wife's machinations more seriously. He looked back up at the sorry excuse for a gentleman who made no move toward the exit.

"Mr. Bennet, I am not asking for permission but for your blessing."

Mr. Bennet marched out of the room not even looking at the young man. Before Bingley could wonder why his Jane did not tell him to expect such difficulty, the father returned with his daughter.

"Jane, please sit." Jane did as her father asked.

"Mr. Bingley, please sit as well before I toss you out that window." Mr. Bennet's face was not as red, and Mr. Bingley did as he was told.

Mr. Bennet went to the sideboard for a stiff glass of Irish whiskey – the strongest drink available in his house. He only poured for himself.

Mr. Bennet was focused on pouring himself a second, and so he missed the tender look of affection his daughter bestowed on her betrothed and the quick squeeze of hands that brought the couple a firm reassurance to each other.

"Jane, this man tells me you have agreed to enter into an engagement. I pray you will tell me he is very wrong."

Jane gave Charles a bright smile that faded a bit as she turned toward her father. She hated to bring him disappointment. "Father, he is not wrong. I agreed just last evening to become his wife."

Mr. Bennet replied, "I will not have this. You may enter into a courtship, and that is final."

Bingley started to speak, but Jane silenced him with her touch and a gentle shake of her head. "Father, that is not possible. Charles and I have decided to have the banns read tomorrow and marry the day after the final calling is read. We will be married on the second of December, even if we have go to Scotland."

"Absolutely not! I forbid it in every way." Mr. Bennet sobered, and looked at his daughter, horrified. He could see she was on the verge of tears as he knew she could not stand to disappoint anyone. He hated to ask, but he had to know. He prayed that this morning's intelligence of the eldest Taylor girl was not some kind of omen.

He focused a murderous look on Mr. Bingley while the complete understanding Samuel Taylor's rage from this morning washed over him. "Sir, I expect the truth and for you to answer to any consequences, because I will demand satisfaction. Does my daughter have reason for such a hasty marriage?"

Mr. Bingley was too shocked to answer right away, and Jane was too hurt to stay in her chair. She ran to her father turning her wet eyes to him and silently imploring him to come to the conclusion on his own volition that she was indeed a virtuous daughter.

"Sir, on my Mother's grave, I –" Mr. Bingley was trying to stay calm at the impugning of his honor.

"Silence!" Mr. Bennet looked away from Bingley and looked down at his daughter engulfing her in his arms. "I am so sorry, my poppet. I am not ready to lose my sweet angel, but that is no excuse. Please forgive me for questioning your honor an obedience." He stoked her hair as he did when she was young enough to crawl up on his lap for a fairytale. He wondered where the time went.

Jane cried in her father's arms, and then whispered into the breast pocket of his coat. "Father, I love him. I do not want to marry without your blessing but I will. Papa, please."

He held his daughter close and saw the course of her life flash through his mind – she was a beautiful babe wrapped in swaddling, then a little blond girl that he loved his tickles, and now she was a strong and beautiful woman. He knew he had to concede the loss.

Mr. Bennet walked Jane back over to her seat and stood in front of Mr. Bingley who confidently rose to look Mr. Bennet in the eye. Mr. Bingley decided then and there it would be the last time _his Jane_ would cry tears of unhappiness if he could help it.

Mr. Bennet was still greatly displeased with the young gentleman in front of him for swooping in and stealing _his Jane_ like a thief in the night. However, his daughter's happiness was of more import than his own. For that was what love was all about. Despite all the fatherly yearnings crying out to deny the stranger standing before him, he said, "Mr. Bingley, I will grant my blessing if you will vow before me, my daughter, and God that you will always seek to put her happiness first in your life and strive to be worthy of her until your last breath."

The serious mien on Bingley's face only hardened as if to convey the earnestness of his next words. "Sir, you, Miss Jane Bennet, and God have my solemn vow."

Mr. Bennet looked to his daughter who was beaming under her demure smile. He was proud she had the courage to fight for what she wanted in this young man, and that reminded him of his wife. Perhaps Jane would be okay married to this gentleman.

Mr. Bennet decided to give a reprieve to the couple informing them he would announce the news to Mrs. Bennet privately, so they would miss her most powerful exhalations. He also admitted to himself that he needed his wife more than anyone else at the moment.

After ringing for Mrs. Hill and giving her some instructions, which also included positioning a maid just outside the open study door to chaperone the young lovers, Mr. Bennet walked to the morning room in search of his wife.

"Madam, may I interest you in a walk through the garden?" Mr. Bennet required fresh air to calm his spirits. It was a habit his Elizabeth inherited from him.

"Mr. Bennet, I can be of no use to you in the garden. Perhaps Mary would like to go with you? Lizzy went out that way earlier. I have need of Kitty and Lydia at the moment as we have several matters to discuss regarding Mr. Bingley's ball. Can you believe the audacity of that Mr. Bingley sending Jane and Lizzy here on their own in his carriage? I will forgive him since he will hold a ball surely any week now, and I do venture it will be in honor of our dear Jane." Mrs. Bennet shined at the thought while the younger girls sat at odds over a rather large ball of ribbon and Miss Mary studied some sheet music.

Mr. Bennet smirked thinking his future son-in-law deserved some credit for slyly entering his study without the detection of Mrs. Bennet. Either way, Mr. Bennet was determined to make his communication outside of the house where hopefully no one would hear her alternate outbursts of joy and rampage once she learned she would have minimal time to prepare a wedding breakfast. He would need to draw peace from the clean, crisp air of the mild autumn day. And, then he would need his study sealed off so he could wallow in his own pity.

"Madam, I do believe you may be correct about Jane being honored with such a ball. If you will join me in the garden, I would dearly like to discuss that very thing."

"Well, Mr. Bennet, why did you not say so? Oh look, Hill is here with my things. Such thoughtful husband you are anticipating my needs." Mr. Bennet helped his wife with her cloak and escorted her outside.

MR. DARCY SLOWED HIS mount when he spotted Elizabeth in the distance. Coming upon her, he jumped to the ground and bowed in greeting. "Good Morning, Miss Elizabeth."

"Mr. Darcy."

"Are you talking a walk this morning?" Darcy flushed slightly at asking such an obvious question.

"As you can see, sir." Elizabeth continued walking not bothering to look toward her new companion.

"May I accompany you home?" He dropped the reins on his horse and took a long stride to catch up to her.

"I suppose you may. I am surprised at your coordination this morning. Yesterday, you could hardly stand from a chair much less alight from your horse with such finesse." There was a hint of reproof in her voice and archness in her look.

Darcy did not know what to say to this well-deserved, but subtle dress-down as he did indeed feel guilty for his state of drunkenness in front of her yesterday. Elizabeth came to his rescue before he let the silence linger into awkwardness.

"Is your horse to accompany me as well, sir?" Darcy's horse stood in place a several steps behind the couple.

"Harry, come." Darcy let out a whistle and he saw the upturn of Elizabeth's lips.

"Mr. Darcy, your horse is called Harry? Is that shortened for something else, or is it just Harry?"

"It is Harry. Is that amusing to you somehow?" Darcy's heart was lightened by the teasing smile she gave him. Perhaps courting Elizabeth would not prove difficult.

"My apologies; I imagined you would name your horse something more extraordinary. The great Mr. Darcy rides a horse called Harry. You must own that is somewhat amusing."

"I will not own anything of the sort. What did you expect, madam? Something along the lines Achilles or Apollo or Zeus? The name of some classical warrior or lover? Harry seemed like a good enough English name. And, I do believe several of our past monarchs were referred to as such."

"Very well. For my own amusement then, I do wonder at what your other horses are called, or even your dogs, and I dare say it shall be intriguing to see what you name your offspring one day. I suppose they will have simple names quite unlike yours though." Though their heads were directed to the path ahead of them, he saw humor and challenge in her quick side-eye glance. "Fitzwilliam is quite a mouthful."

He was awestruck by the way his name sounded on her tongue. Unbeknownst to each other, their thoughts then drifted along in a similar manner at the thought of his potential children and each wracked their mind to find a suitable subject.

"Miss Elizabeth, what brings you out this morning so soon after your return home?"

"Well, the day is much nicer compared to yesterday, so I thought to take advantage of the weather." She then turned fully to Mr. Darcy to gauge his reaction to her next comment. "But, mostly I must own my motivation was to escape my mother's reaction to Jane's news. Mr. Bingley accompanied us home."

Mr. Darcy surprised Elizabeth by laughing.

She studied him noting the way his good humor softened every feature in his handsome face. When he first showed up on his great horse, she was rather perturbed that he would disturb her walk, and she was not inclined to forgive him for any of his perceived offenses, but he was clearly sober today and making an effort to be a gentleman. She also recalled the praise of his servant the night before. Maybe she could give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Your mother does have a certain… um, exuberance."

"Thank you for putting it kindly, sir." She joined him in his laughter thinking that was an apt description of her mother.

Mr. Darcy let his laugh die, and his face took on a thoughtful then an involuntary haughty expression. "I am sure your mother is quite overjoyed at her daughter obtaining such a match and security for your family. It is not every day that a man with Bingley's consequence comes to a neighborhood such as this and offers marriage so quickly to a country miss. I am sure it is quite a feather in your mother's proverbial cap." This time, Elizabeth heard the hint of sarcasm in his voice as much as she thought he had probably tried to hide it.

That was the Mr. Darcy she had come to know, the one that obviously thought station and wealth were what made one _appropriate_ to wed. How he could be pleasant one moment and then irritating the next with his high-minded manner was beyond her.

"Sir, more importantly, my mother will be more overjoyed at her daughter finding happiness, as I have never seen Jane more excited over anything as she is over the prospect at marrying for love." _And, that is truth, you small-minded man._

She hurried her pace wanting to be done with the man standing next to her. Mr. Darcy obviously did not look as kindly as he should upon his friend's marriage. She could tell it from his reaction last night, and it was further confirmed by the tone of his comment. She wished she had the letter with her so she could return it, give this man a final dressing down and be done with him, but alas, the letter was safely tucked in a volume of epic poetry in her room.

As soon as she had arrived home earlier in the morning, Elizabeth placed the letter in her book that currently occupied on her night stand. Despite its conspicuous location, it would be secure from prying eyes. Kitty and Lydia were not even capable of reading such verse, Mary was not a fan of secular text, Jane did not read much at all lately, Papa had his own copy, and Elizabeth could not recall her mother ever even opening a book; she reasoned the letter was safe.

As she walked on, she felt her composure slipping. She reminded herself that he was nothing to her other than a proud, disagreeable man, and perhaps her first kiss, but she must not give him such space in her thoughts. As much as she wished for it, calm would not come over her.

"Miss Elizabeth, I did not mean to offend. But, do you not think my friend and your sister are being a touch impulsive in choosing to bind their lives together after knowing each other just a few short weeks?"

She stopped at the garden entrance and turned a disbelieving look upon him. Looking around and seeing no one, she grabbed the upper arm of his jacket pulling him behind the hedge to a bench forcing him to sit. He was stunned enough by her forwardness that he allowed himself to be pulled along. Harry, the horse, stayed in place mowing some left over grass outside the garden wall as if he were smart enough to avoid the angry emotion rolling off the lady pulling that was his master.

Elizabeth stood over Mr. Darcy in the full glory of her rage but kept to a harsh whisper lest anyone overhear.

"Mr. Darcy, as quick as their decision was, it is theirs to make. And, further, did you not suggest marriage to me but just a few nights ago? How can you have the audacity to judge your friend and my sister after your own actions and suggestions toward me? At least their intent to marriage is pure unlike your own was at the time. You suggested marriage at our regretful action, and then days later you disparage the similar decision of a friend. Have you and Mr. Bingley not known Jane and myself the same length of time? Sir, either you a hypocrite or your words to me of marriage were false… which is of no significance anyhow since I am not interested."

Elizabeth again wanted to mention his letter and how she knew, by his own hand no less, that his declaration that night that they should marry was just some twisted excuse for their behavior or a way to pressure her for more liberties. However, without his letter in hand to return, she did not think it fair to mention it. So, she continued.

"Mr. Bingley obviously loves my sister and she him. It may defy rational explanation, but I choose to wish them all the joy in the world without judgement. What is it to you that he should marry my sister? Is it degrading to _your_ status somehow? I can tell that you disapprove. Why, sir? Jane is the sweetest, most wonderful sister and is every bit deserving of a life full of love. I suggest you keep your opinions on the matter to yourself, sir."

Darcy was preparing to defend himself from her overreaction, but a loud shriek prevented him from standing up with indignation to correct her misapprehensions.

Elizabeth quickly sat down next to him and was too frightened to notice any impropriety as she placed her hand over his mouth and leaned close. "Hush, sir, do not move. I assume both of us prefer not to experience my mother's so-called exuberance at finding you alone here with me."

Darcy soaked in the feeling of her hand over his mouth, and before he realized it, he raised his own hand over hers and kissed the palm that rested on his lips. Elizabeth quickly recoiled and scolded him the best she could with a silent, cold stare. He replied back with a smirk to which she retaliated by punching his punching his leg, and he finally mouthed a "sorry".

The voice of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet was now closer. Elizabeth never prayed for anything more than for her parents to continue on past the hedge in which the unintended eavesdroppers were now hiding behind. For good measure, she reached over to Mr. Darcy and pushed his head forward and down, so it would not peep over the hedge row due to his tall stature. He gave her a questioning look and shook his head.

"Oh, Thomas, just think, our Jane mistress of Netherfield, she will be so grand, and she will be so close. We will not lose her. She must have the finest weeding breakfast. Oh, please promise to indulge me."

"Fanny, will you please calm down and lower your voice? I will not ask you again."

"Well, I do not know why a mother cannot be happy upon her daughter's betrothal. I really should have the carriage readied immediately to call on Lady Lucas, oh, and of course my sister, and maybe even the Gouldings. Oh, all of the neighborhood should be so glad of our good fortune. Oh, Thomas, I am so happy."

"Calm down, there is more. Give me a moment, and control your nerves Fanny."

Mr. Darcy thought to use this pause to make himself known to Elizabeth's parents. He was above listening to any private conversation. Elizabeth read his body language and quickly reached her hand over to clutch Mr. Darcy's leg, hard.

He leaned over placing his mouth to Elizabeth's ear to make his whisper undetectable. "Unhand me, Elizabeth. I will not listen to the private conversation of your parents."

Elizabeth responded by digging in her nails. She felt if she were found at this moment that her fate would be sealed. She would go kicking and screaming down the aisle if forced to marry Mr. Darcy, but she would just rather avoid the possibility.

Mr. Darcy lifted Elizabeth's hand grabbing it tightly and said against her ear, "Fine, madam. But, if we are discovered, we are explaining things on my terms." He did not let go of her hand. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and yanked his hand downward so that they both leaned over their legs further making their shapes smaller and more hidden.

"Fanny, about the wedding breakfast, I will give you leave to purchase whatever you need. But, my dear, there is a condition."

"Oh, Thomas, thank you, what a good father you are." The couple behind the hedge heard what sounded like a not-so-quick kiss. Darcy thought he might lose his breakfast, and Elizabeth was shocked. She did not think her parents engaged in such behavior.

"Thank you for that, but, you are forgetting the condition, my dear."

"Do not tease, Thomas."

"Fanny, you may purchase what you will, but it must be procured within the next two weeks."

"What? Why? I do not understand. No, it will take several months to procure all that is needed. Absolutely not. You are toying with me, evil man. How could you?"

"Fanny, stop. There is a lot to discuss, my patience has been tried severely today for more reasons than one, and I need you to find it somewhere within yourself to be a reasonable woman for once in your life if only for a few minutes."

"I resent that. You are the one be completely unreasonable."

At this point Darcy was unsure how much more he could take of this conversation. At least he still had ahold of Elizabeth's hand.

"Francine, our daughter and her future husband will have the banns read tomorrow and then marry the Monday after the last calling. That gives you not much over a fortnight to plan all that is needed. If you will promise to stay calm and rational, then you will have whatever is at my disposal to provide."

"No, no, no. You must march in there and tell them no. How can you agree to such a scheme?" There was a pause and an audible sigh from Mr. Bennet.

"Our dear Jane gave me no choice. She is of age. She said she will be married on the second of December, even if the wedding must take place in Scotland."

There was more silence. Elizabeth and Darcy looked to each other in shock that Miss Jane Bennet, the paragon of all that was proper and perfect, would provide such an ultimatum to her father. Elizabeth could not imagine Jane suggesting anything of the sort.

Despondency lingered in Mr. Bennet's voice. "Our little Janie is all grown up and taking after her mother in more than looks."

Mrs. Bennet let out a wail. "No, please tell me she cannot be. They have not known each other long enough to know for sure if she is with child. I can imagine he may have compromised her, with her beauty being as it is and being in his home for days on end, but the timing does not allow for her to have such knowledge. Perhaps I should talk with her and tell her there is no rush if there are no symptoms."

"Good god, woman. That is not what I meant. I believe they both are innocent as babes. My reference to her taking after you was having the damned idea to run off to Scotland. Do not worry, I have ceded to their demands. They will have a proper wedding here."

"Oh, thank goodness. I will need to have a talk with her soon though, do you not agree? She should be knowledgeable in the ways of a wife. What if Mr. Bingley asserts his demands sooner than later. I do not want her to be in the dark."

"Madam, we are speaking of my baby daughter. Pray stop. I do not wish to think of what you are speaking. Her being engaged will not vanquish the morals we have instilled, though times I wonder at how we managed to raise such proper young ladies. They will certainly have no opportunity before they are wed. I will see to that. Although, Fanny, in my temper, I did question such a thing as him compromising her, and, I do believe I hurt her at even the suggestion."

"Thomas, she is old enough to be a wife, so she is old enough to understand these kinds of things are not that uncommon. And, with her own conception taking place long before our wedding, I see why it would cross your mind to ask such a thing. Do not be hard on yourself. I would have asked the same of her if you had not."

Elizabeth and Darcy both wished to be swallowed up by the ground. There was now no escape – no way to make their presence known after all of this.

"My dear, it was more than that. I had just returned from visiting Samuel Taylor. Apparently the oldest daughter is now with child, and Gregory Saunders, who is the father, has fled. I will have to hunt him down probably clear across the county and before Taylor gets ahold of him. But, coming from that situation to finding Charles Bingley in my study asking for Jane's hand made me think the worst. I thought it was my just desserts that the fates would finally allow me to understand why your father almost shot me the day we arrived back from Gretna Green and told him he would be a grandfather in four, short months. Oh, Fanny, I am not able to lose her yet or god forbid, any of the other girls. Until today, I did not understand just how selfish we were in our youth."

"Thomas Bennet, are you telling me you regret eloping and conceiving our precious Jane when we did? I will never forgive you if you say so. I would never take back our actions. I loved you then as I do now. After two and twenty years of marriage, you want to finally side with my father? How can you betray me so?"

"No, Fanny, you mistake me. You may drive me to Bedlam and back every single day, and I may wish you could be a more rational creature, but I regret nothing. Never. I would do it all over again in the exact same fashion. I only am saying, I now, finally, have some understanding of your father's hatred for me. I now know what it is like to lose a most beloved daughter to a gentleman. I cannot think as badly of him any longer. It is a quite painful feeling, and I would not wish it upon even your father."

"Oh, pish-tosh. My father had years of knowing that I would someday marry you with or without his consent. The manner of our marriage is upon his head. He deserves no empathy from you, god rest his soul. You realize that your daughter's happiness is most important. What a wonderful father our girls have in you. Do not be pained. We must celebrate. Our girl has found love. Do you not recall how wonderful it was to be in the first bloom of love?"

"My dear, I am still in the first bloom of love, each and every day, even if I wish to silence your mouth when you prattle on about your womanly foolishness."

There were a few moments of silence and small moan. Elizabeth screwed her eyes shut so tightly as to block out the image in her mind. She had given up on any concern for Mr. Darcy.

"Oh, husband, we shall celebrate our daughter properly. I will make her wedding the grandest event the neighborhood has seen in years. Lady Lucas will positively be green with envy. I cannot wait, perhaps we should go to town immediately."

"We cannot go manage to town next week with the whole Taylor business anyhow. You are ridiculous for even thinking it."

"Mr. Bennet, you deserve no less than a great deal of punishment for such an insulting remark."

"My dear, we are quite alone, and your nose is adorably red. I am fine to take my penance now."

"Oh, Thomas, what did I do to deserve such a husband after all these years? I would be mortified if one of the girls were to spy us though. What would they say if they knew their father was really just a schoolboy with his head so easily turned by his wife? Your reputation among them may be ruined."

"Well, Jane, Mary, and Kitty I am sure would believe their eyes were playing tricks on them, so we are safe on that score. I do believe Lizzy's shock would be too great for her to endure, and she might faint dead away. But, Liddy would be problematic to be sure. I believe she would actually gossip to the whole neighborhood about her parents' scandalous behavior. However, we endured the last round of scandal just fine if I had to say so for myself. If anything, my old friends would be jealous indeed that my wife is still besotted with her husband. But, I suppose they have been always jealous since I secured the most beautiful, even if the most silly, girl in Hertfordshire all those years ago."

"What a rake you are Mr. Bennet by trying to woo me in such a way with your words."

"I do believe we are nicely ensconced by this tree and this hedge, so please let me continue in a more persuasive way. But, before I bend you to my will, my lady, may I ask something of you?"

"Oh Mr. Bennet, you know you may have anything of me you wish."

"Mrs. Bennet, do not doubt I will remind you of that tonight after the girls have all retired, but my meaning is something else entirely. Please indulge me for just a moment."

"Fine, go on, Thomas."

"With Jane now engaged and despite what opportunities you may find in the coming weeks and months, will you promise to calm down your talk of husbands for the girls and the hedgerows for yourself? My heart cannot take another of our daughters becoming engaged anytime in the near future, and further, I do not wish to think on a world with you in it alone, and without me by your side."

Again, there were no words being spoken aloud, but Mr. and Mrs. Bennet remained communicating in only the way two faithful lovers of long duration could. He kissed his wife fervently with a mix of long-held love and the same boyish passion he had as when he first kissed over five and twenty years prior under the same ancient oak. Unbeknownst to their daughters, it was the sacred place where Mr. and Mrs. Bennet shared their joys and sorrows together.

As Mr. Bennet took great pleasure in everything that was ridiculous, he took pleasure and solace in Mrs. Bennet, for she was by far the most ridiculous and wonderful study of his life. She would provide the distraction needed from the pain of watching his first child leave home. The two remained engaged in their kisses and comfort for several minutes before making their way back to the house to face this new chapter of their lives.

Even if the younger couple, the two hunkered down on the bench on just the other side of the hedge, had the freedom to speak aloud without being discovered, they would have had no words to exchange. Mr. Bennet was correct. Elizabeth's shock was too great to endure, and she felt she should expire any instant. Darcy pulled himself out from his own astonishment and embarrassment to notice Elizabeth. She clearly was not well. He still held her hand, but it was clear his grip was not providing her any strength. He removed his hand and placed his arm around her shoulders in the manner of a friend and moved his mouth back to her ear. "Do not fret. If we were to be as much in love after two decades of marriage, we would be blessed greatly. Nothing else matters." He gave her a squeeze and Elizabeth awaited escape while unknowingly taking her own comfort in Mr. Darcy's arms.

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 **A/N:** So, there we have it. Jane is now officially engaged, and we now know of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet's scandalously passionate marriage. In my mind, their passion for each other does not detract from Mrs. Bennet being a ball of nerves annoying the bejesus out of Mr. Bennet daily. Instead, he loves her more for it. And, I would venture they are not unlike many moms and dads who often keep their more scandalous side from their children's eyes and ears, thus we never see that side of their marriage from Elizabeth's point of view in JA's original work. Ugh. Just thought of my parents possibly being as in love as Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. *Gag* See, no kid wants to acknowledge that.

Sorry for the long chapter. I will sort out the chapter breaks later.

Anyway, it will be important for our hero and heroine to have some good examples of marriage. Good lord knows they will need it!

Thanks for all the reviews. Please keep them coming. I really like the feedback!

Oh, Avanell – were you confused about where the letter was physically residing? Lizzy told Miss B she had burned it out of impulse and in an effort to be done with the subject at dinner time. But, after she read it, she placed it under her pillow for safe keeping. She wants to give it back to Darcy - it is not her letter to destroy. I will clear that up when I go back for a final edit.

The Reader – To answer your question, Mr. Johnson is 58, but he is a tough old (used relatively) bird for the early 1800s – kind of like those eighty year old men who compete in the triathlons of present day. He also has aged very well – in my mind, he looks like George Clooney. *swoon* You will get his full story in much later chapters. Darcy will need to hear it.

Marabel – I agree, it is sad that Mr. Darcy (and Miss E) had never been kissed until chapter five. There is a good reason why Mr. D abstains from the ladies. I sent you a PM in case you did not see it.

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 ***** post-update edit - I had to make a significant edit to the last couple paragraphs. In my mind I wrote Mr. & Mrs. B's interlude in a mostly innocent way. But, it was pointed out that I might be leading readers to think Lizzie had to listen to her parents do more than kiss. NOT my intention! It is fixed. I suck at proof-reading anyway, but I should have gone over that last bit at least once more!


	12. Chapter 12

ELIZABETH SAT IN HER family's pew that morning still not recovered from the revelations of the day before, nor truthfully from any of the events since staying with her sister at Netherfield. Her naivety had been exposed, and she wished to go back to her idyllic life that in her mind existed but days ago.

She normally sat next to her father to silently communicate their thoughts on the sermons from the pulpit. They each had slightly more liberal leanings than the kind, but very conservative, old man who had served the parish since the time young Thomas Bennet was christened. But, until she could understand the contradiction her parent's marriage, she decided to keep her distance and so relegated herself to the very end of the bench with Mary by her side.

Without her father to keep her attention, and with Mary's steadfast attention toward the parson's words, Elizabeth was free to examine her surroundings while catching bit and pieces about the parable of the rich farmer. She studied her neighbors to see if any were chastised, and her gaze come to rest on Mr. Darcy.

He was sitting with Miss Bingley to his right and Mr. Hurst to his left; Mr. Bingley abandoned his own family to sit next to Jane. Mr. Darcy's posture was rigid and he was stoically attending to the sermon with no shame or conviction writ upon his face.

His wealth was greater than the sum of every parishioner's combined. If anyone had temptation to fall greedily into the trappings of wealth as the farmer in the parable, it was him. Elizabeth reasoned Mr. Darcy either was not guilty of the avarice being cautioned against, or he was too far above being convicted by some lowly country clergyman's words. She wished she knew his character better to ascertain the matter.

Before the service ended, the banns of marriage were read aloud for Jane and Mr. Bingley. Despite her own tumult of the past few days and some slight misgivings at the speed of her sister's engagement, she was all joy to know her most deserving sister would find complete happiness in her Mr. Bingley.

Knowing Mr. Darcy's opinion of the engagement, Elizabeth could not stop herself from a surreptitious look to his pew as the engagement was being made public.

A look of disgust was evident of his face, but the cause was not from his own views of the match. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst let out loud sounds of obvious, unofficial disagreement covered by disingenuous coughs as the banns were read aloud. The tension was unmistakably felt by all of the congregation. Mr. Darcy was clearly mortified to be sitting next to such indecency.

Elizabeth appreciated that whether or not he privately agreed with Mr. Bingely's sisters, he at least had the good sense to be obviously appalled. After shifting as far as possible from Miss Bingley, Darcy caught Elizabeth's eye offering a sympathetic apology with the nod of his head, and she offered him a weak smile of thanks for making his displeasure with the shrewish sisters obvious for everyone in the church to see. She was pleased he would publically support his friend.

After church, with her head held high, Mrs. Bennet graciously issued an invitation for a family dinner to celebrate the engagement for the next evening without mentioning the outburst of Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst. Mr. Bingley was clearly embarrassed but accepted on behalf of himself and the rest of the Netherfield party without mention of the disruption during the service. Giving a warm kiss to Jane's hand and an apologetic whisper to her hear, he quickly parted to take care of the now pressing business under his own roof. Some things were not to be bourne.

THE CARRIAGE RIDE TO NETHERFIELD was completed in silence. Miss Bingley sat in the corner with a triumphant smugness that Darcy found revolting. Mrs. Hurst's unaffected look of innocence was equally so.

Darcy and Charles walked directly to the study, and Mr. Bingley slammed the door behind him.

"Darcy, this is the last time I will abide by my family's disrespect. I have never been so mortified in my life. Both my sisters and Gilbert will be in their carriage in an hour. I have no concern for where they may go. Caroline can go to the devil. Louisa and Gilbert can accompany her there too."

Darcy pushed a glass of brandy in his friend's hand to calm him down.

"Charles, be rational –"

"Damn you Darcy! Do not tell me to be rational. Your sister would not do something to embarrass you, and in public no less. Your sister respects you too much to hurt you in such a way."

Darcy contemplated Bingley's words with pain. It may be a different circumstance, but his sister had acted in a way to cause him embarrassment and hurt, and only the span of a couple hours stood between his family's pristine reputation and a public shame Bingley could not even comprehend. At least Georgianna was truly sorry and did not act with malicious intent.

He rose to pour himself his own drink. _To hell with abstaining on the Sabbath._ "I suppose my sister is truly too good at heart to do something as cruel as your sisters did today. That I will give you. However, I do not think it is in your best interest to send your sisters away just yet. They should be made to atone, and it is best for your own sake to have respect among your neighbors and future family. You will not earn such by sending your sister's away just yet; you must show others you can manage your family. The Bennets need to be graciously received in your household and in public. Once it is established you will not tolerate such disgusting behavior as displayed today from even your sisters, then you may do what you will them."

"I have no interest in handling them any longer, nor do I care to force them to do anything. I prefer to send them off permanently, so they will never offend Jane's family and my neighbors ever again."

"Charles, you have promised to hold a ball. You need one of your sisters to not only plan the ordeal but act as hostess. You hold the purse strings for not only your unmarried sister but for the Hursts as well. Step up and take control – force them to bend to your will in this matter. I understand you threatened Caroline for her disgusting transgression against me this summer, but that was not enough to punish her deed. I also take very serious exception with keeping me in the dark over the situation."

"Oh, come now Darcy, you agreed with how I handled things when we spoke about it the other day. I have apologized. And, we are getting away from the subject at hand."

"Bingley, we were both drunk when you confessed. That is hardly fair. I have had time to reflect, and your sister will not go unpunished by me. I am sorry for it only because I am your friend, but I cannot abide by the insult of her behavior. Her actions today have solidified my decision."

Bingely's anger was starting to cool, and despite feeling rage especially toward Caroline, his brotherly concern would not go die a quiet death somewhere in his soul. "I do not take your meaning; what is it you are suggesting?"

"My suggestion is for you tell both your sisters that they will plan the ball as promised. Make it an engagement ball in honor of your betrothed. They should issue invitations personally and make good by the Bennet family with each personal visit to all your neighbors. If they choose to do otherwise, then by all means cut them off if you wish it. But, you need to put some weight behind your demand. Your father gave you control of both your sisters' fortune. It is not even required for you to dispense it should you not wish it. Give them no other option but to do as you say. Furthermore, limit possible offense by limiting the interactions between your sisters and your new family. And, for God's sake, man, do not take your sister to call there or dine at Longbourn on the morrow. Their apologies should take place in the same arena as the insult – in public and with as least of trouble to the Bennet family as possible. After your sisters have reversed the damage of today and you have made your marriage, the send them off to their own establishments and out of the way of this society. "

"An engagement ball for Jane, hosted by Caroline? I do think that is rather just. After today, I am to the point I consider withhold both of their fortunes if needed. Gilbert has an income to rely on, and Caroline can go to family in Yorkshire as a penniless spinster if she finds herself under my wrath again. And what of yourself, Darcy, what is _your_ plan toward my sister? As much as I detest her actions not only today but earlier this year in regards to you, I request to know what you plan. Further, I ask you to recall you cannot demand satisfaction from her. Dueling is illegal."

Darcy chuckled at his friend. Leave it to Bingley to go from blazing mad to making light of his sister's foolishness.

"I am sorry to say that I received a missive from my aunt recently that concerns your sister. Apparently, she assumed with her connection to me and with her one introduction to my Aunt Ellen, she could claim acquaintance to Matlock. My aunt was not pleased in the least. As punishment, I only intend to inform your sister she will not find the drawing rooms in town as open to her this season. I will reassure you that you and your new wife shall be unaffected, so do not worry on that score. To your sister, I also intend to make it known I will never marry her despite whatever circumstance she may contrive."

"Well, that is nothing less than she deserves. Let us get to it. I will call in Louisa to lay down my terms and make Gilbert aware that he needs to step up concerning his wife. That will leave you to Caroline. After you are finished conveying your own messages, please send her my way."

Darcy made his way out of Bingley's study thinking of the letter his aunt sent in which she expressed her disdain for Caroline Bingley. He had been remiss in the past several days with his correspondence. It dawned upon him how fortuitous it was that he never sent his original letter to his aunt and how fortuitous it was that his reply was interrupted that evening by the most wonderful encounter of his life. _Had_ _I had not discarded the reply and actually finished it, I would owe Aunt Ellen quite an explanation after introducing Elizabeth as my wife_. _Thank you father in heaven for I am an idiot writing such about the future Mistress of Pemberley_.

It was also fair to say that the events of that evening clouded his mind to the point he was all but sure he had destroyed the draft of that letter. As much as he despised relaying his personal dealing to even his family, he would need to properly reply to his aunt straight away and teller her of his plans to take a wife. She was always his champion, and if anyone could set an easy path for Elizabeth among the ton, it was Aunt Ellen. He just prayed she would be happy enough he was finally settling down to overlook the degradation of Elizabeth's family. Like Bingley, he would brook no disrespect for his future wife, even from the Fitzwilliams. Unfortunately, before he could write to his aunt, he needed to deal with the unpleasantness that was Bingley's sister.

DARCY WALKED INTO the morning parlor where he found Mrs. Hurst being summoned to her brother's study. Miss Bingley stayed in her place at a dainty little table pretending to be engrossed in some book. As Mrs. Hurst marched from the room her head held higher than a French aristocrat marching to the scaffold, Darcy made a point to give her no notice and leave the door wide open while asking the footman remain in the doorway at attention.

He gave only the slightest of bows to Miss Bingley and went toward a large picture window overlooking the almost barren garden. He purposefully turned his back to the servant and did not look to Miss Bingley as he spoke coolly and quietly.

"Miss Bingley, despite the lack of foliage, I do believe the prospect of the hills are quite enticing. Can I request you join me to take in the view?" Although he stationed the footman so that he and Miss Bingley were properly chaperoned, he indeed a private conversation.

Caroline was beside herself with excitement that Mr. Darcy clearly sought her out and remained alone in a room with her. He had never done so before.

She was not blind however, so she tempered her excitement; she saw how he was displeased with her actions in the church. But, then again, he was her brother's best friend. Of course Mr. Darcy should take the side of her brother in a public setting, she reasoned. She was certain Mr. Darcy's true thoughts were closer to her own. She would gladly act for the both of them if he could not openly show his disdain for the Bennet family. He may think nicely of Elizabeth Bennet as a proper young lady although Caroline could not see it, but she knew he did not think Miss Eliza worthy of marriage. Caroline thusly concluded Mr. Darcy must also think Miss Jane Bennet was not appropriate for his friend either.

Caroline sauntered closer and placed her arm through his.

"Madam, it pains me to be direct; however, I wish to relay to you some intelligence that I recently received by letter from my aunt, the Countess of Matlock. I am sure it will cause a degree of mortification to us both."

Caroline stiffened at his words but listened as he continued, and she tried to ignore his angry countenance.

"It has come to the attention of my aunt you have perhaps belied a connection you have not actually formed. My aunt, you see, is quite protective of her place in society and is careful as to whom she allows to claim of intimacy with her or her family. After learning of her displeasure, I concluded the gentlemanly thing to do was to provide warning as I understand you are planning to return to town after your brother's wedding. Unfortunately, you may not find certain places as welcoming as you would like during the Season."

Caroline was red as a beet, and Darcy knew he may feel a trivial amount of guilt later for being unkind, but he enjoyed watching her squirm. He lifted Mrs. Bingley's hand out of the crook of his arm, allowing the mask of indifference to crack as he finally looked down at her showing his repulsion. In a fashion more dramatic that was his intent, he released her hand letting it fall unceremoniously to her side.

"Mr. Darcy, I never… and I have been introduced to the Countess-"

"Madam, I am sure with your fine education and superior knowledge of society, you are aware an introduction does not make a connection. And, to bandy about that connection, which you certainly cannot claim, in London society was a grave mistake on your part. Anyhow, while I appreciate your hospitality and will respect your position as mistress of this house until Charles's wedding to Miss Jane Bennet, I would like to make something else clear to you if I may again speak directly?"

Darcy took her silence as acquiescence. He turned and looked directly into her face. To her, he appeared even more imposing than just moments ago.

"I am not enough of a gentleman to be forced into a marriage with someone like you. If you attempt to ruin your reputation in a compromising manner, it is nothing to me. Further, your disparagement of the Bennet family is a disgrace that I will not tolerate – now or ever. You owe your brother respect, and that extends to his betrothed and her family – including Elizabeth. Comport yourself as a lady not only in my presence, your brother's presence, but the presence of entire Bennet family, or you will feel my wrath in society. I am done enduring you and your sister for your brother's sake. And, do not ever attempt to enter my bed chamber again. I care for Charles as a brother, but so help me, I will not think twice about ruining your name. My aunt will make things difficult for you to be sure this season, but I suffer no qualms to make things utterly impossible if you ever cross me or anyone in my family. Do not doubt I have the clout at every level of society, and do not try my patience, madam. Further, you will go speak to your brother, and you will do everything he asks of you."

Miss Bingley was frozen in place, and Mr. Darcy was trying cage his temper. She had never been spoken to in such a manner, and he had never spoken to a woman thusly in all his life – men, yes, but a woman, certainly never.

He realized there was a lone servant watching, but he was beyond caring if this was gossiped about below stars. Miss Bingley deserved the humiliation. When he felt the master of his voice again, he said, "Lastly, in case you were unaware, unmitigated desperation is not an accomplishment."

He spun around to walk back to his room mostly satisfied if not a small bit disappointed for exposing such an amount of emotion to Miss Bingley. He always tried to check his temper in front of women out of respect to their sensibilities, but this one deserved the full effect even at the cost of letting his emotions rule his better sense.

Mr. Darcy protected his reputation and name at almost any cost, and the same courtesy would now extend to Elizabeth and her family as he would make her his wife. Miss Bingley would never be a thorn in his side again. Unlike his friend, he never thought twice when he laid down the gauntlet.

Miss Bingley was not seen again for the next several days until she and Mrs. Hurst made the rounds to the neighborhood personally inviting all the principal families to an engagement ball to be held on the 26th of November and in honor of their lovely sister-to-be. It was well remarked upon how the haughty sisters seemed less so condescended to visit each home for a full half hour while using most of that time to discuss their excitement and great pleasure that was their brother's engagement.

WHILE MR. DARCY was giving Miss Bingley the set-down of her life, Elizabeth and Jane were sitting on their bed reflecting on all that had happened during the earlier church service.

"Sister, while I am most happy for you, I do pity you for gaining such sisters upon your marriage. After having to manage Mary, Kitty, Lyddie, and even myself for all these year, you think the fates would deal you a kinder hand? Instead, you are to be rewarded with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst upon leaving us. 'Tis a cruel world indeed. I do not think my love for a man would survive marrying into such a family."

Jane laughed with her sister. "Oh, Lizzy dear, you are not giving anyone credit by saying such things."

"After this morning, how is it you are so calm? I have a great deal of anger on your behalf. Your fiancé better take his sisters into hand if he is to be worthy of you."

"Of that I am sure."

"Mr. Bingley seems a gently, amiable sort of man. I could not even read anger on his face after church, embarrassment perhaps, but not the fury required to spur him into action. How is it you are sure?"

"He is a great man, Lizzy, and he will not stand for such effrontery even from his own family. I am sure of it just as I am sure that he loved me. He promised me before he left for Netherfield I would never have cause to be hurt or embarrassed by them again. I have faith in him. I am pained for his sisters, but it is a great feeling knowing he shall put me first in his life. I never thought to have such a man to marry."

"Well, then, I shall be glad you have a fierce protector, and I shall be sad to give over my post to him."

Jane reached over to give to give Elizabeth a sisterly embrace, and Elizabeth clutched her back with all the might she had. "Lizzy, you will always be my greatest champion. Mr. Bingley will not replace you in my heart. I have just rather made room for him. You will not lose me. You have seemed so distant these past few days. I hope my reassurance provides some comfort, but would you like to discuss anything else. I will always be here for you. You have been my greatest friend and confidant. I could not bear that to change."

Elizabeth just nodded. Jane did not even realize the conflict in her own words. If Mr. Bingley put Jane first, Elizabeth was sure Jane had put him first, she was just not aware yet.

So much had already changed. She thought to her parents in the garden. To her dismay, her parents embodied the intimacy of marriage. If Jane and Mr. Bingley were to share the same closeness, Elizabeth knew she did not fit into that. She wiped her eyes and resolved to be strong in front of Jane as much as she wanted to give in and unleash all of her feelings. She would not plague her dear Jane with all the uncertainty and conflicting thoughts on Mr. Darcy, their parents, or even the sisters' upcoming separation.

"Well, Janie, I appreciate that sentiment more than you can know. I do think I shall especially need it tomorrow when Mr. Collins arrives."

Even Jane laughed. "Yes, from Papa's letter, Mr. Collins does seem rather… unique in personality."

"Oh, Janie, you know he sounded like a buffoon in his letter to Papa. Do not be so gracious. And, you know if he proves to be unattached and truly means to, how did he put it… oh, yes, if he means to extend an olive branch, then you know I am next in line for Mama to marry off."

"Surely Papa will not allow such."

Elizabeth smiled in relief. She knew very well her father had no intention of losing any of his remaining daughters to marriage anytime soon. She now understood the promise her father extracted from her mother to cease her matchmaking ways in light of Mr. Collin's unspoken visit. Her father was certainly sly. "No, Jane, I do not imagine he will allow it. But, despite how our father tries his best to reign in our mother, she will do her best to promote a match right under his nose." Her father was sly, but her mother could be more so when determined.

"What if there was a man truly worth of you Lizzy? I think Papa would have no choice but to see you marry. What if Mr. Darcy approaches father?"

"Jane! Why would you say such a thing? And, no, Papa would not let me go to such a man."

"Lizzy, you said he kissed you. I am not blind. While at Netherfield, he only had eyes for you. It was very sweet how attentive he was the night before last while you played for us in the drawing room. Even at church he stared at you when you were not busy staring at him this morning. Although it was quite obvious to me because I am aware of his partiality, do not fret. I doubt it was not so plain to those who do not know you as I do. But, dearest sister, do not overlook the compliment of such a man. What I would not give to see you as happily settled."

"Jane, consider this – he is a confirmed bachelor who has publicly insulted me and was continually rude to me several times while in company. Then, suddenly when the chance appeared while I was alone, he dared to accost my person in a dimly lit library. Not a day later, he barely spoke no words to me, and then he shamelessly and drunkenly flirts with me for you, Mr. Bingley, and those wretched sisters to witness. Did you even realize your own suitor at the time was well in his cups? Finally, I find out he has stared at me in church in front of the whole congregation. How are any such actions a compliment? There is even more, Jane that I do not wish say." Elizabeth was exhausted. She wished for a day free from him and the thought of him. It was bad enough he was the best friend of the man her favorite sister was to marry. She likely had a lifetime of being in his company. "I do not understand his game, but do not think him so sincere. For your sake, I will endeavor to tolerate his company."

Jane, in her wise ways, did not say anything further. She only rested her hand upon Elizabeth's arm and gave her Lizzy a warm smile of understanding. Jane knew Elizabeth would arrive to reason in her own time and of her own volition, and any attempted assistance would just lengthen the journey.

Elizabeth recalled his comfort yesterday when they were hiding in the hedgerow and how he shared in her mortification. He was not judgmental or repulsed by the scandalous and private words of the elder Bennets. He was sympathetic, kind, and did not attempt to expose them from their concealment. _What was it he said about being blessed to have such love?_ He even left her presence as soon as she requested it without question once her parents slipped away. She was being wholly unfair. "Jane, forgive me. I understand he is the best friend of your future husband. As your closest friend and sister, I will do more than tolerate him. I will attempt to be his friend."

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 **A/N:** My apologies for taking so long to update! I have been sitting on a few completed chapters and second guessing myself a little. I also have a lot going on IRL too… just as I am sure you all do as well. Thank you so much for taking the time to read. I cannot tell you how humbled I am by it all. Your feedback is appreciated!

I know there was not a lot of D/E interaction in this chapter. But, that will be remedied in the next. You will not have to wait long. Also, the last half of this story will be nothing but their interactions. We are approaching that point.

Darcy is harsh in this chapter… but Caroline is much deserving – you will probably agree later. She won't make too many more appearances, but her earlier actions will have a lasting effect. And, he is a man that doesn't put up with a lot of people's crap… except maybe Lacy C's.

To 'The Reader'… I would love to tell you why Jane and Mr. Bingley take the plunge so soon, but the two explanations might give away too much of what is to come.


	13. Chapter 13

THE FAMILY DINNER PARTY Mrs. Bennet arranged to honor her daughter's engagement of course included more than strictly family. Mrs. Bennet was too proud of her daughter's accomplishment to not include half the neighborhood. Showing off the feather in her cap was a pleasure she would not deny herself.

There was an unexpected guest – which happened to be considered family, whom before this night, no one actually knew in in the flesh. However, because of Mrs. Bennet's constant lamentations over the past several years, the future master of Longbourn, William Collins, was well-known in reputation to most everyone in the room – everyone except the nephew of the illustrious Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

To Mr. Darcy, Mr. Collins was not the evil, excommunicated branch of the family tree set to take over the entailed estate of Elizabeth's family. Instead, Mr. Collins was the beady-eyed, rotund clergyman under the power of his aunt.

Darcy never previously had the pleasure of making Mr. Collins's acquaintance, but Stephen and Richard's description of the man presiding over their aunt's parish could fit no other than the fool being presented to him at that moment. Darcy's saving grace was that Mrs. Bennet made the introduction without the mention of his own estate; therefore, Mr. Collins had not yet placed the connection of Mr. Darcy to Lady Catherine.

He thought it a gross misfortune he should share a dinner table with Mr. Collins this evening, and it was even more unfortunate that the bumbling idiot with a slightly rancid smell should be the cousin to his future wife. _How am I to explain this to my family_? _Richard will never let this rest, and Uncle… Oh, good god. Should Elizabeth produce one more unseemly relation, we will have to exile ourselves to the Skye estate just to escape the mortification of it all. Perhaps that is not an entirely terrible idea…_

At the sound of Bigley making his excuses for his sisters' absence, Darcy's mind floated back to the conversation around him. Bingley was still carrying on to all those assembled while overtly holding the gaze of his betrothed.

"Mrs. Bennet, it is my pleasure, on behalf of my family, to formally invite you and everyone gathered here this evening, to an engagement ball being graciously hosted by both my sisters. I ask all of you here to join me in honoring my darling Jane the evening of the 26th in my home… our future home."

Bingley's proud invitation was met with a shrillness from more than one Bennet lady. Darcy did his best to fight against the involuntary motion of covering his ears with his hands.

The speed at which Kitty and Lydia started to discuss ribbon and lace was awe-inspiring, and Mrs. Bennet was sure to faint at Bingely's feet over such an invitation. "Oh, my darling Jane, a ball in your honor. For we knew Mr. Bingley would keep his promise to hold a night of dancing, but to hold an engagement ball for you. I shall go distracted. Lady Lucas, do you hear, a ball for Jane. Oh, if only your own daughter-"

Mr. Bennet interjected upon the exclamations emanating from his wife. Lady Lucas's daughter was standing right next to one of his own, and he was not about to allow his wife provide insult to Elizabeth's friend in such company. "Mr. Bingley, we accept your invitation and are most pleased your family will honor our Janie. I do believe Mr. Hill is about to announce our diner. Mrs. Bennet, may I offer you my arm as we go enjoy the splendor of your table?"

Elizabeth noticed for the first time how her father always escorted her mother to dinner despite precedence or the formality of the meal. If she were not so mortified at her mother's outburst just a moment ago, she may have given a satisfied smile to no one in particular that romance indeed was not dead.

Before any other thoughts of her parents could unsettle her mind, her arm was captured by her newly introduced cousin, and he led her the short distance to the dining room. Charlotte Lucas, who in the middle of relating some gossip of the recently arrived militia to her friend before being rudely interrupted, followed closely behind the pair.

Mr. Darcy was not pleased Mr. Collins beat him out to take Elizabeth's arm. He quickly grabbed the arm of the closest lady without notice and quickly followed Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. As there were no place cards, he deposited Mrs. Long next to Mrs. Bennet and waited for Elizabeth to enter the room.

Among the commotion of so many finding a place at the table most suited to their own pleasure, Darcy approached Mr. Collins and Elizabeth.

"Mr. Collins, I am sure you will not mind if I escort the lady to her chair. You see, Miss Elizabeth has promised to sit next to me to continue a recent discussion over a rare book of poetry we both have read. I am in much of a mind to continue our exceedingly pleasant discourse. Pray, excuse us."

With that, Mr. Darcy discreetly removed Elizabeth's hand from the parson's coat and led her to the table pulling back the seat for her to sit. He then took his own and turned toward her. "Madam, please do not look so incredulous. Did you really wish to partner with him for supper?"

Elizabeth blushed furiously at Mr. Darcy publically extricating her from Mr. Collins as well as his reference to the intimacy of _that_ night. She continued to look to the empty seat in front of her and watched as Mr. Collins took it while looking oddly at the pair across the table from him. Under cover of her wine glass and looking at neither gentleman, she said, "Well, Mr. Darcy, it appears as my wish to partner with my cousin tonight for supper will not be denied. And, you, for shame, sir."

"My apologies. But, it was important for me to speak to you so that I may secure the first set at your sister's engagement ball. Will you do me the honor?"

She placed her glass down on the table and gave him an arch look. "Do I have a choice if I do not wish to sit the evening out?"

As the first course was presented, Darcy looked the table up and down. _Is this really to be my lot?_ Longbourn's formal dining room was large to be sure for such an average manor house, but the almost thirty people who filed it gave Darcy great annoyance. Other than himself, Bingley, Elizabeth, and her eldest sister, there was not a single other person with fashion and sense. Darcy let out a sigh not paying one bit of attention to anything around him. The meaningless chatter and laughter was driving him further into his own mind. Even the scent of Elizabeth next to him could not detach him from his thoughts as he mechanically placed food in his mouth and wine in his belly. _Yes, this is to be my family_.

This was the path he chose the night he lost himself to Elizabeth in a moment of passion. He was already resigned to have no one else as he would stand by the gentlewoman he compromised. Although he may not know her completely as he would like, he knew she would make him very happy. Being close to her, speaking with her, kissing her, and the intimate moments such as holding her when she was under obvious distress the other day in the garden would more than compensate for the degradation of her connections. Darcy knew himself to be of strong character, he would manage the disappointment of her station.

As the second course was being passed around, for Longbourn did not have enough servants to individually serve such a party, Darcy felt a satin slippered foot kick his leg from the side. He almost dropped the potatoes into his lap. As he sat them down, Elizabeth cleared her throat loudly and implored him with her eyes. He looked around to see several of his dinner companions facing his direction.

"Mr. Darcy, as my mother has asked, how did you find the fish during the first course?" She arched her brow and gave him a knowing smile. She must of have noticed he did not partake of the fish. He detested fish.

"Ah, my apologies for not attending Mrs. Bennet, you set a very fine table." He directed his attention back to his meal.

"Well, Mr. Darcy, that is high praise indeed!" Mrs. Bennet was practically shouting down the table. I am sure your grand estate boasts of only the finest French chefs. Pray, what is the name of you estate, sir? I am afraid it has escaped my memory."

Darcy did not have to reply as Bingley piped up for him. "Mrs. Bennet, Darcy's estate is called Pemberley. It is in Derbyshire, and you are correct, his estate does boast the finest cook in probably all of England; however, Darcy would not be such a traitor to our beloved country. Mrs. Gill is certainly the sternest English woman I have encountered. God help you if you enter her kitchen and steal treats not yet ready to be served. I would wager she turned Darcy over her knee more than once when he was lad for sneaking in her kitchens. She probably would to this day if her were not such a tall, broad fellow."

"Thank you friend, that is quite enough." Mr. Darcy would normally have left it at that, but this was after all to be his new family, and he did not want to give such a rude impression as he was sure his voice sounded harsh just then.

He looked to Bingley and attempted to tease with a full audience. "Perhaps the next time you find yourself at Pemberley for a visit, Mrs. Gill will be visiting her family, and as her undercook cannot prepare the lemon tarts you favor, you will have to go without."

Bingley loved goading his friend, and Bingley loved Mrs. Gill's lemon tarts so much she made them daily during his visits and always sent him with a package when he departed.

"Darcy, you know it would be ungracious of you to deny me my very favorite treat."

Mrs. Bennet spoke up. "Oh, Mr. Bingley, I will certainly ask cook to have some tarts readied for you. Mr. Darcy, perhaps you could write to your cook to send me the recipe so that Mr. Bingley will not have to go without? I would much obliged."

Darcy replied, "I am afraid that will be impossible, madam. The recipe has been a guarded secret for several generations now. Only Pemberley's head cook and the mistress of the estate is given the particulars."

Elizabeth could not hardly countenance the conversation between her mother and Mr. Darcy. For her mother to ask a gentleman of his ilk for a pastry recipe – how was this madness allowed to pass for dinner conversation? She looked to her father seeing he also shared her diversion. She could not hold back the small bubble of laughter as Mrs. Bennet continue to goad Mr. Darcy for a recipe he was unwilling to give. A recipe for goodness sake. Recipes were discussed among ladies in the drawing room. After Mrs. Bennet's third attempt, Elizabeth was sure the gentleman sitting next her was annoyed just as much as she was entertained. At the second escape of her laughter followed by an indiscreet cough, she felt a light tap on her foot from a heavy boot and looked to Mr. Darcy as he then locked his ankle over hers. She immediately and unsuccessfully tried to remove her foot. Appearing as nothing untoward was happening under the table, he turned to Mrs. Bennet with a twinkle in his eye that Elizabeth had not seen before. To see a teasing Mr. Darcy among such a large gathering of people confounded her greatly.

"Perhaps, Mrs. Bennet, once I take a wife, you may ask the future Mrs. Darcy for the recipe. Although, I imagine the woman will be a strong, stubborn sort if she is to put up with the likes of me. I imagine she will also do her duty the Darcy estate and protect all of its secrets, so you may not have luck in that quarter either."

Elizabeth blushed scarlet as his foot tightened the hold over hers and he moved his leg closer to her.

Mrs. Bennet looked perplexed and was about to ask Mr. Darcy if he was soon to be married when Mr. Collins turned from another conversation to quickly stand from his chair and take a deep bow. Everyone looked to the odious parson in various states of confusion, astonishment, and amusement.

"Mr. Darcy, sir, please forgive my lesser notice earlier upon making your acquaintance. I am most grieved to not make the connection earlier. I humbly and most thoroughly beg your forgiveness, sir. Had I but known you were Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire and nephew of my patroness, the great and noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I would not have been remiss in telling you that your aunt was the picture of graciousness and health just yesterday when I had occasion to meet her after giving the sermon in the Hunsford parish that abuts the her great estate of Rosings in Kent. Also, as you refer to the future Mrs. Darcy, I must also tell you that your betrothed, Miss Anne de Bourgh, was also in good health and spirits. How fortunate you are to be absconding with such a true gem."

Mr. Darcy looked up to the daft man completely stupefied by his speech. Darcy had just taken a mouthful of peas as the parson spoke, and when Anne was mentioned as his future bride, several escaped down the wrong part of his throat. He could not cough, and he could not breathe. A great panic inside of him overtook the embarrassment of Mr. Collins' address.

As realization dawned upon the already stunned party at the table, a commotion broke out. Elizabeth started to pound on his back and call out for help. Mr. Collins stood across the table blinking in confusion and then broke out in a prayer. Finally, Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley rushed over to Mr. Darcy who was now standing and gripping the edges of the table as his face turned a bluish kind of color.

One sift, hard blow to the back from Mr. Bennet, and the offending peas stuck in Mr. Darcy's air passage sailed through the air and down the table. One little green ball hit the face of Mrs. Long, two landed in Mrs. Bennet's elegant coiffure, and four landed in the same matron's ample cleavage following the valley of her bosom to rest in the depth of her stays.

For several moments, there was not a sound other than Mr. Darcy gasping for breath. Like a baby taking in a great breath to let out a wail, Mrs. Bennet sucked in the air around her and then let it out in a monumental fit of hysterics knocking her wine glass and her chair over as pandemonium ensued.

Mrs. Phillips, Mrs. Lucas, and Mrs. Long rushed to help their sister and friend who was flailing about like a fish out of water. Mr. Collins started exclaiming his thanks to God that Lady Catherine's nephew was saved from certain death while Mary was quietly reciting her own prayers. Kitty, Lydia, and Miss Maria Lucas were doubled over in a fit of giggles, and Mr. Philips was doing his best to bring the young girls to order. Bingley took one look at Jane to see her discomposure and raced back to her side. Charlotte was call Elizabeth's name and trying to catch her eye as to lend her some silent strength of mind. However, before she could give a sympathetic smile to Elizabeth, Lydia had fallen off her chair knocking herself into her neighbor, Mr. Long. As Mr. Long grabbed the table to steady himself, he only found the tablecloth in his hand. With an involuntary tug, one wine glass fell into his lap and a plate full of dinner cascaded over Lydia's dress. Mr. Bennet attempted to right the tablecloth before any additional dishes could spill over. More shrieking, wailing, and laughter commenced.

The whole episode was really too much for some. Mr. Darcy fled the room with a very angry Elizabeth eventually following behind. Although Mr. Bennet was lording over the entertainment and doing his best to keep glass in their upright position, the exit of the gentleman and his own daughter did not escape his notice. He put his faith in her better sense before finally restoring order to the massive idiocy surrounding him.

ELIZABETH FOLLOWED MR. DARCY straight out the front door. It was cold and neither had any outerwear nor any gloves.

"Is it true? You are engaged? Perhaps for the sake of your future wife, you should have suffocated on those peas!" Elizabeth was incensed at being used so abominably by him. How dare he be engaged to another while he exchanged such intimacies and acted so familiar with her; her indignation was of course on behalf of his betrothed she told herself.

Elizabeth saw the outrage on his face and then promptly recalled the letter still hidden in her room. It struck her that he was obviously not promised to anyone in marriage if he could write, to whom she supposed was another of his aunts, of his perpetual bachelor state and unwillingness to change it. "Forgive me, I realize you are unattached although I do not quite understand why Mr. Collins would say such a thing."

Darcy threw his hands into the air. "How can _you_ say such a thing? Do you really wish I would have met my death?"

"Perhaps..." Darcy's mouth hung open at her reply. _It would certainly be nice for you to go away - goodness, how terrible am I?_ _I do not truly mean to be so_. She sighed and could see her breath and her insulting words hang in the air. She out to retract her outburst.

"Of course I would not wish your demise. I would not wish ill on anyone. I was just momentarily angered. That is all. Please accept my apology." She did feel contrite at her overreaction.

Darcy took a few steps as to stand over Elizabeth.

"Accepted. And, madam, may I ask why you were angered to hear I may be promised to another woman?"

"No, Mr. Darcy, you may not ask such a question." She turned to go back in the house as the cold wind was biting her exposed skin.

Before Elizabeth could open the heavy front door, Mr. Darcy caught her up wrapping his arms around her and moving her to the side of the door and out of the illumination from the lantern burning brightly in the night from its station alongside the entry. He moved his hands rapidly up and down her arms giving them warmth before he pulled her closer engulfing her in the front of his evening jacket.

"Miss Elizabeth, it is quite cold, and until you answer my question, I am afraid I must keep you outside."

"Sir, this is not proper." _I take it back, he should have met his end._ Her breathing was coming heavy now, and it must have been the cold air burning her chest from the inside.

"Then you should not have followed me out here wishing death upon me. That kind of insult is not proper either although I do believe it is time you admit we are obviously beyond all that is proper." He leaned his mouth closer to her as he spoke.

For several moments in the dining room he was unable to breathe, and he truly felt the fear of death rush through his body and heart - all could have been lost. He had heard of people suffocating to death when food become stuck in the airway of the throat. _Damn that Mr. Collins._

Elizabeth looked up into Mr. Darcy's face and locked her eyes into his. He felt emboldened to speak her peace. "And therein your words lies your answer concerning my anger, Mr. Darcy. I would find it untenable for you act as you have toward me while some woman, your affianced, is pining away for you. I would not appreciate being party to such faithlessness. However, upon further consideration, I find your behavior untenable regardless of your potential marital status. Do not think my anger was rooted in jealousy, sir."

Darcy tightened his hold, slowly closed his eyes to her gaze, and touched his still warm lips to her cold cheek breathing his words into her skin. "Elizabeth, I shall think how I please." Instinct overtook him, and he kissed her with the energy of a man who had, for a brief moment, saw his life flash before his eyes over something as trivial as a few peas. Forgotten was the insanity inside the house. He realized life was too fleeting to not enjoy the sensation of her body wrapped in his coat and pressed up close against his chest. Her warmth made him feel like he could brave the coldest winter winds if only she would stay right where she was.

Elizabeth decided over the course of the last several days that she did not particularly like the man who currently had her locked within his embrace, but she also had never felt so alive. In that moment, what did it matter if he did not think her marriageable? She thought likewise concerning him and would never dream of accepting a serious suit from him. He was too proud, too taciturn, too high-handed, and too variable in his temper. He would not suit as a husband at all.

But, as his lips met hers again and again, she allowed her body to betray her mind. The warm feeling in the pit of her stomach was what she now admittedly longed for since she last felt it that night he kissed her at Netherfield. It was not of her own volition when her hands snaked around his sides and found even more warmth upon his back under the edge of his waistcoat.

Darcy gave a moan against her mouth and breather her name. It was all that she needed to pull herself tighter to him and kiss him in the way she had pictured in her dreams the last several nights. The inside of his mouth tasted sweet like wine and she thought she would die every single time she felt his tongue on hers as he trailed his hands from her shoulders to her lower back in an effort to bring her even closer and keep her warm.

Their ecstasy was cut short when the door latch sounded. If Darcy had not moved them out of the light when he first took her in his arms, Mr. Bennet would have seen Elizabeth break away from Darcy and slide along the house in a panic.

Elizabeth followed the shadows of the bushes making her way to the kitchen door. The glow of the hearth illuminated her guilt. What had come over her so? Why could she not control her feelings and actions when it came to that contradiction of a man?

Taking a deep sigh, she jumped when she felt a tap on the shoulder. Hill and cook were standing there staring at her. "Miss Elizabeth, I am so surprised to see you down here and recovered as I just checked on you in your room not a quarter an hour previously. Your father insisted that we give you all the time you needed to gain your senses after the episode in the dining room."

Elizabeth stared back unblinking at the housekeeper not comprehending what the older lady was saying. "Hill, can you please repeat yourself. I am afraid I do not understand"

"Miss, I am sure you can imagine that you were missed for the past half an hour as we put the dining room to rights. You were missed, as was your mother's guest, Mr. Darcy."

"I see, and you checked on me in my room?"

"Miss Lizzy, your father and I both checked on you and assured your mother as well as the rest of the guests you would be down in time after taking a moment to compose yourself. The ladies are in the drawing room. Perhaps you would like to join them?" Hill smiled knowingly at Elizabeth but also with kindness. Elizabeth just prayed her father came to some alternate conclusion instead of the truth. Her guilt was great.

"Thank you, Hill." How the housekeeper could always chastised her without directly saying so, Elizabeth had never been able to puzzle out. She graciously took the pardon and went to join the ladies.

"MR. DARCY? ARE YOU WELL? Can I entice you to come back inside? If you would like, you may use my study to compose yourself. I have a good brandy in there that I dare say will even meet your standards. Also, did my Lizzy come out this way earlier? She also left the dining room after your… well, your mishap."

Darcy did not want to lie, but he was not about to tell Mr. Bennet what he had been doing with his daughter. He had a feeling Mr. Bennet was not as benign as he appeared. He settled for the present reality. "Thank you Mr. Bennet. She is not currently out here with me."

Mr. Bennet eyed Mr. Darcy closely taking into account his askew waistcoat. That answer did not sit well. He could see for himself that his daughter was not _currently_ outside. Mr. Darcy was not being precisely untruthful, but he also did not answer the question.

"Well, come. I am sure she was just overcome with all the ruckus and excused herself to her room for a bit. Let me show you to the study."

As they walked pass the parlor, both Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy spied Elizabeth siting by the fire with a red nose, red cheeks, and rather red lips. Her arms were crossed in front of here and she was warming her arms with her hands in the same manner Darcy had done outside under the cover of his jacket. Darcy could still smell her scent. The look on Elizabeth's face was curiously unreadable by Mr. Bennet, but Mr. Darcy was sure he knew what she was thinking by the faraway look in her eyes as she stared at the fire. He was thinking of the same thing as he inadvertently stopped to drink in the soft glow of flames reflecting from her skin.

Mr. Bennet cleared his throat, and they walked on in silence.

When they entered study, Mr. Bennet offered Mr. Darcy a seat and poured him a glass of his finest smuggled brandy, a gift from his wife's brother, Mr. Gardiner. "Here sir, this should restore you."

Darcy drank sipped it and looked to Mr. Bennet with surprised delight. "This is quite excellent. Is there a chance you might share how to procure such a fine drink?" The brandy was better than anything Darcy had in his extensive cellars.

"Mr. Darcy, perhaps I was not clear earlier. Did you see my daughter come out the front of the house after you hastily made your own exit? And, I do mean did you see her at any point after you left? It was clear to me that she was not out there when I opened the door, but it is not clear to me if she was out there _prior_ to me opening the door. As her father, I am quite curious, and I would not take well to a gentleman being untruthful to my face in my own home."

Darcy prided himself on being an honest man. He got up and made his way to the window never being so tempted to blatantly lie in his life. He made sure to not look at Elizabeth's father in the reflection of the glass. "Mr. Bennet, I understand the sentiment. I would not tolerate such dishonesty to my face either, especially in my house and concerning those I love." Darcy did not say anything else and refused to turn around.

"Sir, I will excuse you this one time. You are lucky in that I know my daughter well enough to know she has never liked you and would act with all decorum even as she was obviously outdoors this evening alone in your company while the rest of us dealt with the uproar that occurred in the dining room this evening. I will have you know, you had nothing to lose by telling me the truth. Do not do me the discourtesy of believing I would force something as an unwanted marriage on my daughter because she was found to be alone with you… although I ask that it never happen again. I will not be so kind the next time. I warn you, do not abuse my generosity."

"Thank you, sir. I will not." Darcy continued to face out into the dark, starry night without acknowledging the older gentleman again. _Does Elizabeth really despise me?_ The pain he felt at Mr. Bennet's words was great, but he decided it could not detract from his purpose of honoring her with marriage after their encounters. _She cannot truly dislike me when she kisses me so_.

"Please join us when you are ready, Mr. Darcy."

"Mr. Bennet, thank you for saving my life at dinner. I truly could not take a breath."

Mr. Bennet closed the door as he walked out.

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 **A/N:** The next chapter is a continuation of this night. I really wanted this one night to be contained in one chapter, but brevity is just not my style I suppose. Let me know if you think I go into too much detail. Is the pace reasonable? Is everything flowing? I admit I struggle with knowing. And, this is the point I feel in novels where things can spiral out of control.

I will also say this story is not quite halfway, and I am already at 50K+ words. *sigh*

Your feedback is mucho appreciated!

I cannot tell you how much the reviews mean to me. Please keep them coming!


	14. Chapter 14

**Note: I have uploaded two chapters at nearly the same time. Please read chapter 13 if you have not done so!**

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"MR. DARCY, I AM SO glad you decided to join us." Mrs. Bennet's words had an edge to them. "I dare say you have recovered yourself from the interruption we had at supper, sir." She did not rise to show him to a seat or give a curtsey as he performed a meager bow.

"Likewise, madam." Darcy did not initially think to apologize for his part in the evening's earlier disruption as he was still on edge himself.

Despite having a flush in her cheeks at seeing him so soon after their dalliance, Elizabeth silently rebuked him with a disappointed glare for his haughty tone with her mother, so he added in a more neutral tone, "I apologize for my absence, Mrs. Bennet. The dinner was lovely, and I was sorry to miss the final course. I am pleased to join you this evening." This earned a small nod from Elizabeth.

He moved to a chair near the couch Elizabeth shared with her friend, Miss Lucas, and Mr. Collins. Before he could sit, Darcy recalled Mr. Collin's words from dinner. Still standing, he addressed Mrs. Bennet loudly enough to capture the attention of everyone in the room.

"Mrs. Bennet, if you will excuse me interrupting your drawing room, I feel obligated for the sake of a lady's reputation to address you and the room."

A fear struck Elizabeth deep in her chest at what Mr. Darcy could have to say. _He would not dare announce anything about us. He has no right. His honor can go hang._ Mr. Darcy was staring directly at her.

Mr. Bennet was seriously displeased as well; everything had already been said that needed saying in his study.

Darcy kept his eyes trained on Elizabeth but instead addressed the gentleman beside her. "Mr. Collins, I must refute your assertion that I am engaged to my cousin, Anne de Bourgh. It may be a wish of my aunt, but neither Anne nor I have entered into such an agreement, nor do we ever intend to. For the sake of my cousin's reputation, I will not have you insinuate she in engaged when in fact she is not."

"Mr. Darcy, I am afraid I do not understand, how could your noble aunt be wrong about such a thing? I am absolutely sure there is some misunderstanding on the circumstance. Lady Catherine is never wrong nor would she ever say an untruth."

Darcy was mortified at having to lay bare his personal business to those wholly unconnected to himself, but he could not let the matter go unanswered considering these people were Elizabeth's family and friends. _It will also be mine by extension of her_. Any qualms at holding back could not now be valid. It was a duty to Anne _and_ Elizabeth that he correct the misinformation.

Darcy shifting a cold mien directly to Mr. Collins, said, "I insist you desist, sir. I think I would know when my honor is engaged to a lady, and it is certainly not engaged toward my cousin. Do not again speak of the matter to me or to anyone else. Do you understand, Mr. Collins?"

Darcy felt Bingley's hand on his shoulder and calmed. He was angry Mr. Collins would not only announce his nonexistent engagement but that he would argue the point. Mr. Bingley, knowing his friend's temper, had moved away from Jane to diffuse the situation.

Bingley took a more jovial tone, but he did not mince words. "Mr. Collins, my good man, I must support my friend in this. Mr. Darcy is not engaged to Miss de Bourgh, and he can be quite the bear about the subject as we can all see - meddling aunts and all that – no disrespect intended." Bingley looked to Darcy for acknowledgement and to Jane's aunt, Mrs. Phillips with a smile. He then gave a rare icy glare to the parson on behalf of his friend before resuming his place next to Jane. "Mr. Collins, do not challenge my friend so. It will not go well for you, sir."

Mr. Darcy took his own seat while an awkward hush entered over the room. To break the tension, Mary started a song at the pianoforte, and the younger girls finally let their ever incessant titters escape. The matrons talked in hushed tones. Mr. Darcy wanted to return to Netherfield immediately, but as he looked over to his friend to get approval to make an escape, he realized he would have to endure because Bingley was again huddled with his fiancé like the mooncalf he was. Darcy was not so selfish as to impede his friend's time with Miss Bennet.

Frustration and anger not only overtook Darcy, but now he was jealous of his friend's good fortune. Bingley had an acknowledged relationship and was free to monopolize Miss Bennet's company while Darcy was forced to watch Mr. Collins salivate over Elizabeth from his chair directly across from her. _Mr. Collins, what his game? Why is he here?_

Mary ended her playing which gave Mr. Collins the opening he needed to suggest an instructive reading to the young ladies sitting next to him from Fordyce's Sermons. Mr. Bennet turned away from his conversation with Mr. Phillips to strongly encourage the idea.

Darcy wanted to hoist Elizabeth over his shoulder and escape his own personal version of Bedlam or at the very least do the same as Bingley and take her to a darkened corner to delight in her smiles.

Mr. Collins pulled a book out of his pocket and turned to Elizabeth. "My fair cousin, we have only just met today, so I must thank you for your graciousness in allowing me to read to you a principal passage in Fordyce's sermon five I find particularly instructive to the young ladies on the not-so desirable quality of wit in a female. I am sure someone with your demure and amiable spirit would quite agree with the wisdom of these fine, fine words. You are a true angel of delicacy, and though I am sure you do not require such instruction as to the tempering of wit in female manners, I am sure you would enjoy hearing the lesson nevertheless."

Elizabeth's was completely agape. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy both could not help coughing over their amused guffaws. The older man looked questionably at the younger and shook his head effectively silencing the retort on Mr. Darcy's lips.

Mr. Bennet was quite looking forward to his daughter's reaction as the idiotic parson expounded the evils of one of her favorite pursuits. However, he was less enthused as clearly Mr. Darcy had found the same ironic humor in the situation. How should the young gentleman know his daughter so well? Before he could contemplate the matter further, Mr. Lucas joined him and Mr. Phillips with information pertaining to the Taylor family on his estate.

For his part, Mr. Darcy's anger at the parson all but melted away. He even took pity on the round-faced, perspiring oaf. He knew Elizabeth would pierce the man with the very same weapon the parson was rallying against. _En garde, Mr. Collins_.

At seeing Mr. Darcy's amusement at her expense, Elizabeth decided to not give him the pleasure. She fluttered her lashes and gave her most brilliant smile to the parson.

Regrettably to her sensibilities and then her nostrils, she even reached out a hand to his arm briefly and leaned a hairsbreadth closer. _Too close_. "Why, Mr. Collins, how well you have taken the likeness of my character upon so short an introduction. I am best pleased to listen to all you may explain. I assure you could not have chosen a more appropriate audience as myself and my dear friend, Charlotte, here. I dare agree that a man such as yourself should not have to suffer wit in his lady of choice."

Lydia let out a snort from across the room and Kitty did not restrain herself either. Jane admonished them both. Mr. Collins was too overcome by the flattery of his partner on the couch to notice the antics of the younger girls.

Her _dear friend_ , Charlotte, did not hide the massive rolling of her eyes since Mr. Collins was too busy fawning over Elizabeth's words to notice. She stood to make her exist not wishing to contribute to making a fool of a seemingly respectable man. "Oh, yes, Mr. Collins, my dear Eliza here would love to hear your wisdom on the subject I am sure. However, pray excuse me as I am sure my mother has need of me."

Elizabeth gave Charlotte a look that plead for forgiveness to which Miss Lucas just shook her head.

Mr. Darcy could not resist. "Miss Elizabeth, I find I need clarification on your last statement. Do you think all men should not suffer wit in a woman or just Mr. Collins? Mr. Collins, I assure that her words were not a compliment."

Elizabeth gave a cheery smile. "Mr. Collins, please ignore Mr. Darcy as I am most sincere. And, Mr. Darcy, I do not pretend to know the preferences of all men, so I am sorry I am unable to respond to your question."

"Madam, how can you know the preferences of Mr. Collins as you have just met him this very day? How can you know that Mr. Collins will not appreciate your special brand of wit?" He then looked to Mr. Collins. "Do not be taken in by the lady." He turned back to Elizabeth, and said, "I daresay it is a disservice to your cousin for you to hide your intelligent humor under a bushel." Darcy was satisfied to see Elizabeth riled by his forward speech and did not intend to cease. There were no others paying any further attention to their discourse, and Darcy thought his aunt's clergyman should learn his place.

Elizabeth was giving him her most defiant scowl, and he was enchanted by small crease on her forehead and the rosy patch of skin at the base of her neck that showed she was becoming angered. He thought it delicious irony that he had just kissed her in both places this very night. Obviously, the same thoughts were no longer on her mind.

"Mr. Darcy, I would ask that you not proclaim such knowledge of me and let our Mr. Collins begin reading as I am most eager to listen."

"I am sure you are most eager Miss Elizabeth." He took a pause and gave her his best intimation of the rakish smile he had often seen Richard give the ladies at various soirees and balls. "I most eagerly await your reaction to such nonsense. Mr. Collins, do not let her fool you as she often professes opinions that are contrary to how she truly feels." He inclined his head in challenge. Elizabeth blushed at his familiarity and wished to beat him over his head with her shoe for such impertinence. She determined to not be affected and pulled her thoughts quickly together.

Most of the meaning of the conversation was lost on Mr. Collins, but he was most offended that Mr. Darcy should reduce a most beloved work of teachings to ridicule. "Sir, are you mocking Fordyce's greatest work? Your most estimable aunt recommends this text commonly to all the young ladies in my flock. Surely you cannot disagree with such a knowledgeable and exalted woman as your aunt?"

"Mr. Collins, have I not already done so this evening?" Darcy raised his brows in question and held his mouth in a grim line before proceeding. "I assure you that I disagree most heartily with the ideals you hold in your hands. I am familiar with what passage you aim to read, and I declare my opinion to be in direct opposition. Fordyce suggests that no man would want a wit for a wife, and I can tell you that is quite untrue for many. What fool could deny that a sparkling wit, especially when matched with fine, sparkling eyes, is a most desirable feature in a wife?" Darcy's face hardened face was daring the parson to contradict him.

Mr. Bennet did not hear what had been said but looked over to see the conversation between his daughter, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Collins was cause for concern based on the parson's red face, Darcy's rueful stare, and Elizabeth's own narrowed eyes. Thomas Bennet was not one to enjoy a dinner party, and everything about this evening reminded him exactly why that was. He wished to put an end to this horrid night – he had had enough of Mr. Bingely's friend and enough of his foolish cousin.

"Mr. Collins, I am afraid that we will have to listen to you read at a later time. I am finding it late and think it best for us to all retire for the evening."

Mrs. Bennet, who was in serious discussion with Mrs. Phillips over which flowers could be procured for Jane's wedding, heard her husband speak of ending the evening. "Well, Mr. Bennet, retire if you wish, but the night is still early. My sister and I still have much to discuss. Please, Mr. Darcy, do not feel obligated to leave. You and Mr. Bingley are most welcome to stay as long as you wish this evening." Mrs. Bennet looked to her eldest and was filled with something very much like gratitude that her daughter not only secured a rich gentleman who could assist in the event of her husband's demise but that her daughter had found what looked to be happiness with such a fine man.

Mr. Bennet ceded to his wife but would not be detracted from his aim of ridding Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins from his daughter's presence. He stood up to address the room. "Well then, Gentleman, would any of you be interested in a game of cards in my study while the women see to wedding details?"

Mr. Phillips was astute enough to see Mr. Bennet's intent. Having no children of his own, his nieces held a dear place in his heart, and he was just as protective as their father. He saw the fatigue his second eldest niece had with the two gentleman. "Certainly Bennet. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins, of course we require your presence as well."

Elizabeth was furious as to Mr. Darcy practically declaring himself in front Mr. Collins and possibly her father. She decided he could not be allowed to retire to her father's study. There was no chance of Mr. Darcy holding up against a possible inquisition from her father and uncle.

Elizabeth turned her best doe-eyed expression to her father but tried to keep her voice neutral. Her father was not turned by an overly sweet voice from any of his daughters. "Papa, please do not hide yourself away in your study. I was most looking forward to trouncing you in a chess match this evening. Can I implore you to stay for a game before retiring to your drinks and card games?" She nodded to the board set up across the room trying to affect innocence.

Darcy was not a coward and happy to follow Mr. Bennet and Mr. Phillips to own up to his taking liberties in conversation with Miss Elizabeth in the case he was overheard by the two gentlemen. He knew he had crossed so many lines this evening. He was disconcerted in the presence of Elizabeth after kissing her so, but it was also pleasing to know he would eventually win her, because there was no other option after their behavior tonight. He felt justified in being a little forward in the face of Mr. Collins, and he loved nothing more than to battle her in conversation. Fordyce was entirely incorrect about the virtues of a woman's wit.

"Mr. Darcy? Will you attend us?" Mr. Phillip's question pulled Darcy back to the conversation and he noticed Elizabeth wringing her hands and trying to calm her breath. He understood Elizabeth's wish, and she was probably correct. He was in Mr. Bennet's study not two hours previous, and it was rather uncomfortable. "Mr. Bennet, Mr. Phillips, I am afraid Bingley and I must soon take our leave. Perhaps we can defer our game until another time?"

Mr. Phillips replied, "Mr. Darcy, as Mr. Bingley accepted our invitation to a card party we are hosting the next evening. Can we assume you will accompanying your friend? We then will only have to delay our game until then."

"Certainly, I will not miss it, gentleman." Mr. Darcy went to pry Mr. Bingley from Miss Bennet's side silently promising his friend he would make it up to him.

Mr. Bennet attended his daughter to the chess board. A short time later, Mrs. Bennet called to Elizabeth to escort the gentleman out with Jane to which Mr. Bennet insisted his game could not be interrupted. Mary was sent in her stead.

AFTER ALL THE COMPANY departed, Mr. Bennet called to his favorite daughter as she walked past his study on her way to the stairs. "Elizabeth, please come."

Elizabeth went to her father and kissed him on the cheek before sitting down.

'Lizzy, that was quite a scene at dinner, do you not agree? And, I do not even care to discuss the scene in the drawing room. It was obvious Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins were making you rather uneasy."

Elizabeth thought back to dinner and then to what happened afterward outside, and the evidence rose in her cheeks. "Dinner was mortifying and upsetting, papa."

Mr. Bennet was not expecting that response.

"I guess I do not understand. Is that why you ran out of the house? You were embarrassed of our family?" Mr. Bennet hoped her reason was that and not because she actually intended to follow Mr. Darcy out of more concern than she ought to have.

Elizabeth closed her eyes. Yes, she was horrified when she fled the dining room. She was also furious – furious at her family for making such a spectacle of themselves as usual, furious at Mr. Darcy for his supposed engagement, and furious at herself for even caring so much about any of it all. "Papa, pray excuse me. I do not what came over me tonight. I just needed to recover myself. It has been a trying several days."

"Elizabeth, where did you disappear for the rest of dinner? You were gone an inordinate amount of time. Your absence was quite difficult to explain to everyone at the table as Mr. Darcy was gone for the _exact_ same duration. You are lucky you two did not enter the house at the same time. I never thought I would have to make such an excuse for you as I did tonight. Mr. Collins and your mother, not to mention your aunt, were beside themselves when you did not return. Thankfully, I was convincing with the help of Mrs. Hill claiming to check on you in your room. Do not ever put me or our servants in such a situation again."

Not only were her cheeks red, but a blush settled over everything else. "Sir, you do not need to remind me. But, father, it is not what you think."

"Yes, Lizzy, please tell me what I am supposed to think. Mr. Darcy was rather forward in the drawing room, was he not? He was adamant about not being engaged to his cousin, and I did not miss his looking to you as he said it. Further, I know not what conversation transpired between you, my cousin, and Mr. Darcy, but I could tell it was most likely not appropriate. Should I be made aware of something, child?" Mr. Bennet was growing concerned and impatient. He had no capacity to deal with this situation considering he was dealing with Jane's pending nuptials, his unwanted houseguest's plan to extend the olive branch, so to say, and all the other weights upon his shoulders with his estate and his tenant's personal problems. And, he certainly would be damned if he would lose another daughter anytime soon.

"No, papa, there is nothing to worry about. There has just been so much change, with Jane marrying, and staying at Netherfield, and Mr. Collins arriving today. The foolishness of mama and almost everyone else tonight, and with a man being in serious peril at dinner finally broke composure. I apologize for being the kind of silly female you often lament. But, I needed some fresh air, and Mr. Darcy happened to have escaped outside as well. I am better acquainted with him since our stay at Netherfield. Since his close friend and my dear sister are to be married, it is fitting we should put our differences behind us and attempt to become friends. But, you must believe that is all. While outside, I ensured his good health and then returned to the house." Elizabeth look to her hands not daring to trust meeting her father's eyes. She promised herself to never be alone with Mr. Darcy ever again. _Ensuring his good health, indeed. Papa would kill me… or him. I am on the path to damnation, and the most handsome and insufferable man of my acquaintance is my escort. What a cruel world. Papa must suspect it._

"Lizzy? Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, father. I am just tired. It has been such a long day."

"Fine, Elizabeth. I understand your concerns. I have the same. It seems our lives have turned upside down in a matter of less than a se'night." He looked at her closely seeing she was obviously still discomposed. "May I ask that you stay close to the house for the next day?"

"But, father, I had already planned my escape from Mama and Mr. Collins!" She gave him her most pleading look. "Perhaps I can persuade you to take a long jaunt with me in the morning, sir? That would accomplish my plan of escape, and I dare say your own, and I would also be under your ever watchful eye." She found it within herself to tease her father despite the situation.

"Lizzy, as lovely as that sounds. There are some serious matters I have to deal with. I have to ride clear across the county at first light and return prior to your aunt's card party in the evening. I am sorry, but I cannot spare the time. Perhaps you can hide away somewhere in the garden from Mr. Collins. He is a rather clueless fellow is he not? I could not contain my amusement when he wanted to read to you. I believe he is taken with you. But, do not worry your pretty little head too much on that score. I do not plan on losing any more of my girls for a while now. Mr. Collins will have to bide his time or take his olive branch to some other family he has surely offended. Do not worry my Lizzy, I will set him upon the right path… and, I plan to do the same with your other gentleman for that matter."

She knew the look in his eyes – it was the same as when he had figured out a great puzzle or riddle. She suddenly felt very exposed and needed to reassure him his thoughts were not entirely correct.

"Papa, while I appreciate the offer, you may have my word that there are no other gentlemen requiring your stern words. Mr. Darcy has no such intentions toward me. I am certain you have no worry in that direction. Please believe me, sir. He is a confirmed bachelor. As long as you warn Mr. Collins his potential suit is not welcome in this house, then I am safe from leaving you anytime soon for either of the gentlemen."

She went to give her father a kiss on the cheek and walked toward her bedroom where she intended to not dream about what had happened on the front porch with the handsome man who kissed her and held her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat in a sea of uncertainty. Tonight, she had felt him clutching to her for dear life. She also told herself she would not dream about his rich voice complimenting her wit or her eyes. His arms and his words were not a place of refuge, nor did she feel a sense of belonging when nestled against his chest. The next time she saw him, if she could find a private moment with him, she must tell him all that had transpired tonight between the two of them must never happen again.

MR. BENNET ENTERED HIS wife's chambers later that night immediately seeking her out to find comfort.

"Thomas, what a delightful evening. Oh my, whatever is wrong?"

"Fanny, dear, you promised to not throw our daughters at eligible gentlemen, correct?"

"That was before I knew we would be hosting Mr. Collins. How unfair of you, Thomas."

"He is a buffoon. With Jane engaged to that Bingley fellow, you have nothing more to worry about. I do expect you to keep your promise. You shall not encourage any of our daughters toward him. I will not allow him to marry any of them. They deserve better. I will be gone most of the day after first light. I cannot leave or even find sleep until you promise me I still have your word?"

"Fine, husband. But, I am not happy with your duplicity in getting me to agree. You knew your heir would be joining us with an intent to select one of the girls. They would have this house if one of them married him."

"Tell me, would you have married Lucas all those years ago as your father wanted if a fine house was part of the deal?"

"No, I received a fine house by marrying you, and all he had at the time was the promise of a shop." She kissed her husband's cheek and blew the hair out of her face. "I said I agreed to your demand. Do not look so glum. What do you think about Mr. Darcy? That man almost choked to death at my table. The audacity of him. And, then to find a pea in my stays. Oh, Thomas, I almost fainted dead away."

Mr. Bennet called on his years of practice to not laugh at his wife in this moment as he did not wish to anger her when he truly needed her comfort.

"You know we would not have been able to entertain for months had he died. And, then to disappear, and Elizabeth, too. That girl will be the death of me, I am sure of it. Thank goodness she was in her room and not somewhere off with Mr. Darcy. Although, even if she had been with him, I am sure she could not have caught his attentions. Not tempting my eye. He is a blind, pompous fool for thinking such of our daughter. I care not for him even if he owned half of England instead of half of some northern, terrible county."

"My dear, I am not sure if Mr. Darcy is such a fool after all, and I think you are not the only one who is thankful he did meet his demise at our table. Let us go to bed, Fanny. Just abide by your promise is all I ask, no matter how tempted by our daughter's prospects you may be. Now, please come provide me my reward for enduring your dinner party this evening." His wife went obligingly to their bed as she blew out the candle.

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 **A/N** – Okay – yay for another chapter in the same night/wee hours of the AM! I actually have to play in a golf tournament tomorrow and will regret staying up so late, but I just did not want to leave you without having both chapters.

Also, I want to explain more about this story and what is in store... just so you are informed… and you all have been so gracious sticking with me through this.

I imagine this story will be published as one book, but divided into three volumes. Volume I will be the longest. Based on the chapter map I currently have coupled with my writing style, I expect this to be 120K – 140K words – a full length novel of 400 words. I will still need the help of an editor to help reign me in where I need it (not to mention fix all my grammar mistakes. I digress…)

I know some of you just want to see E&D get together quickly and get all the misunderstandings out of the way. In the interest of disclosure, that will not happen until much, much later in the story.

To give you a better idea of where this is going, I have been working on a prologue. I am showing the WIP below. Do not hate me for it. I promise there is a very permanent happy ending. But, our dear Elizabeth and Darcy take a very long journey to get there. Don't be too sad. There is certainly angst, but there are also happy and humorous points along the way – and tense, angry filled moments, moments they have to come together and help each other. While the deepest feelings they hold back, they also share much with each other. They are suspended in some odd form of friendship for most of the book, but this is the story of how they face their feelings, their own shortcomings, and fall in love. So, please bear through the hard misunderstandings that seem to linger. Our couple manages through it, and they are eventually rewarded.

Let me know if it is too confusing for you all to see the prologue so far into the story. Your feedback is appreciated!

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Prologue:

Darcy was still in his night shirt as he sat in the plush chair staring out over the hills of Matlock watching his carriage pull up the dust into the air as his wife continued into the distance. There was an aching within his heart, even more than the one which usually rested there, and it grew with every moment she and the carriage drew further out of sight.

 _It is what she wants. I will get through this for her sake_.

He could not stand to watch the small dot of his coach fade to nothing over the rolling sun-kissed wheat, so he turned away from the window and went to find his riding attire. He needed to get out of this house. He needed to be away from everyone and everything so he could process what his life had become.

He managed his boots himself. He did not want to see Johnson. That man practically loved Elizabeth as much as he did, albeit in a much different way. He was not going to bear the accountability of the man, not this morning, and not after last night.

Why was it that every time they seemed close to finding happiness it slipped from their grasp? Maybe he was delusional. Maybe he just thought happiness was just one kiss or pleasant smile away when in truth he never had a chance.

He went to his small writing desk and retrieved the betrothal ring. He was going to ride to the closest peak and fling it as far as he could and perhaps fling his heart with it. He was a Darcy, and he had great responsibility. He wife obviously did not care that he had a responsibility to her above all else. She did not see his care, respect, or even his love. She did not want to any of it. She said so last night. It was time to call the sham of a marriage what it was. She could establish her life as she saw fit. It was time to move on with his.

He turned the small silver band in his hand and studied the inscription. _All I refuse and thee I chuse_. What a foolish thought. He wished more than ever to go back to the night in Hertfordshire when he saw her by the light of a fire and chose to walk away. He did not even love her then. _That is not true_. He may not have recognized it, but he had loved her before that. He could not account for it, but he knew it to be true. Why could he not tell her the truth?

He truly wished he could go back to the day in her father's field, lay bare his soul, and tell her she had a choice. He knew it would not have been him, but the rejection surely would not be this terrible after now seeing small hints of what life could be behind the heavy curtain of what was truly reality. Perhaps if had not the chance to sink this far into the despair of loving her, he could have pulled himself to safety before it was too late. For now, he was a drowned man.

He would always love her. There could never be another. However, they had to find some way to move forward. Apart. Perhaps he would go to Skye and live out his days there. That was a place of recent happy memories. He had no wish to see Pemberley. He promised himself not to take her home, to his home, their home, until he won her heart. That was an impossibility. She could go there to live on her own with Georgie. His sister's children would have to inherit. There was no future for his own despite the demand he put on Elizabeth the day after their wedding. He could not ask it of her. He loved her too much. And, it would break him see her with his children but no love in her eyes for him.

He must think. If only an annulment was possible, but he knew there was no just reason in the eyes of any law. Their marriage did not fit any of the criteria. Perhaps it was time to seek the counsel of his uncle. _Later_.

For now, Darcy gathered what he could of any proof of his love for her. He packed the letters - _all the letters_ , the pressed flowers, her ribbon with her scent, the piece of her tattered petticoat, her glove from the night of the masque, and the ring she flung in her room the night of their wedding. He put it all in his satchel with a bottle of whiskey and escaped down the servant's staircase.

He rode his horse with a fury even he had not known before. There were not shouts of excitement spurring on his mount as the wind hit his face. He just wanted to be far away from the torment that was the last shred of hope fading from his marriage.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews; they are much appreciated more than you can know… all of them. Comments on the prologue have given me some needed perspective, although I am not promising to change anything at the moment since I know how much the resolution is worth it. :)**

 **Posting delays may be inevitable over the next several weeks. But, I am going to aim for at least 5K words per week uploaded. As much as I wish writing were my profession, unfortunately, it is not (yet). I have some looming deadlines over the next month that may distract me from updating as much as I wish. However, I have promised myself to stay the course no matter what is going on in the office. So, please stick with me.**

 **Anyone reading this has my sincere gratitude.**

 **I am posting the next chapter as soon as I hit the button on this one. So, enjoy the long immediate update. Both chapters together are about 10K words.**

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THE SOUND OF DANCING rapiers bounced around the ballroom as the dawning sun began to spy the gentleman and his servant. A very burly man executed a dazzling parry-riposte which landed his master on the floor.

Bingley chose at that moment to walk in completing Darcy's embarrassment. His thoughts were too full of the night before to properly stand before his trusted servant and oft-times fencing partner with any credibility.

Ignoring Bingley's teasing, he made his way to his own rooms for a solitary breakfast tray and day of tackling his neglected correspondence.

Mr. Johnson followed Darcy into the bed chamber. "Sir, Burk just arrived with a parcel from town."

Darcy said his thanks and groaned at the bulk of the package. He already had several letters requiring a response, and in the leather case were what he presumed much more requiring his attention.

Before Mr. Johnson resumed shining a pretty pair of Hessians, he said, "Sir, I believe a particular item you are awaiting from London is contained within."

Darcy placed the bag down and stared at it for a full half-minute. He ensured Mr. Johnson was across the room before picking it back up. He pulled a velvet pouch out from beneath the post and peeked to what was resting in the soft lining.

There it was, a delicate circle of silver with a tiny inlaid emerald. This small token represented two previous generations of Darcy betrothals. He picked it up between his thumb and forefinger and held it to a ray of sunshine coming through the window and thought how small the fingers were of the lady he hoped would wear it. He put it on his own finger, and the ring did not slip past his knuckle.

Women were such a mystery to Darcy. _How different a woman is from a man._ He thought how small and delicate she was, and how perfectly had she fit against his chest when he held her last night. He closed his eyes trying to relive the feelings her form against his excited.

Then the invasive thought struck him how sometimes she seemed larger than life. She was obviously angry last night to hear of his supposed engagement. _Very promising_. When she stormed out behind him, she was not the sweet, diminutive lady she often appeared. Her wrath was fierce. He was sure she could easily take him down with her words if he allowed it. He was never one to be cowed, but he had a suspicion it was possible in her presence.

Wanting to think on a more pleasant topic, he twisted the ring around and thought about her kissing him back. She was bold in her actions. He had absolutely no experience beyond what he read in books or the stories he heard from his cousins or at his club, but he was certain she enjoyed what happened between the two of them. He imagined she would most certainly be worth the seven and twenty years of waiting.

Mr. Johnson looked up to see his master wear the silliest grin and sighing loud enough to be heard across the room. Theodore recalled what it was to be in love thinking of a time long ago when he had courted his own bride.

"Sir, Miss Bennet is a lovely woman. I believe your parents would have approved of her very much."

Darcy snapped his head upright and lost his balance in the chair. He caught himself, but the ring fell to the floor and rolled over the hardwood until it fell over with a ping. Mr. Johnson retrieved it.

As he handed it back, he said, "Mr. Darcy, sir, please forgive my forwardness. I did have the opportunity to speak with the young miss the other night in the library. She seems an intelligent, pleasant young woman."

Johnson paused and thought fondly of how Miss Bennet was completely out of sorts when she bumped into him. Her discomfiture did her credit. There was no art in her being in the library despite his young master foolishly attempting an assignation while in his cups.

"There is a true kindness and gentleness about her. Not only was it remarked upon by those below stairs while she and her sister stayed here, but I witnessed it myself when I saw her cover you with a lap rug. The library was quite cold. Sir, if you do not mind me saying, your choice will do your estates credit, and I hope, bring you much joy. Having the right woman by your side is the best blessing a man can experience." Having said his piece, Mr. Johnson left to attend his master's dressing room thinking he had done well by his friend, George Darcy, who was no longer here to provide encouragement to his son.

Darcy looked after his valet in stupefaction. Mr. Johnson rarely every crossed the line into personal speech. However, the intelligence was not unwelcome. Forgetting to wonder at how his valet would know his choice of bride and his intentions in the first place, he focused on the intelligence in his words. _She actually came to me_.

Darcy could not believe it of her. While he still felt guilty for the imprudence of suggesting a clandestine meeting after he had overindulged in Bingley's fine spirits, he was satisfied she was interested enough to venture to the library to meet with him. And, the fact she saw to his comfort in the cold room as he lay passed out on a sofa made him feel warm all over. His hope to secure her hand was growing great, indeed.

Mr. Johnson's other words were a concern. There was, of course, the feeling he should not tolerate such personal conversation from a servant, but he knew Mr. Johnson was not just a servant. He was his father's friend. Darcy wished he knew more about the relationship the pair had but believed they were close enough to take Mr. Johnson's words to heart.

Darcy assumed if his father were here, he may, in fact, be disappointed. His father always warned him to be in control of his actions towards women and give the utmost consideration to love and duty when it came time to take a wife.

Darcy recalled his father's advice on the subject of marriage. George Darcy told his son it was his responsibility to marry not only a woman he could love for the rest of his life since a strong marriage was the foundation for family success, but he should also choose a woman worthy of Pemberley and the Darcy name. Darcy men married for love, but they married women of the highest quality, his father had said.

George Darcy had also strongly cautioned his son about proper conduct around women. They deserved respect no matter their station, and the only appropriate behavior was gentlemanly behavior.

Despite feeling he was close to the winning the prize of Elizabeth's hand, and despite Mr. Johnson's sanction, Darcy was reminded he was not living up to his father's expectations.

He not only compromised a gentlewoman, he compromised a gentlewoman of inferior birth he did not love and who added nothing to Pemberley's wealth. Darcy went from elation at knowing Elizabeth came to him that night to feeling the guilt of what would most likely be his family's unrealized expectations as well as the guilt at failing in his father's expectations of proper conduct.

It was too late to change his course, and as sorry he was to have compromised her, he wanted Elizabeth to be his wife. He could not imagine there would be another woman in existence who made him feel as right in the world as she did when he kissed her. She may not be a peer's daughter as was his mother and both his grandmothers, and she might not bring anything of value to the marriage, but he knew he would eventually come to love her. For now, he knew greatly admired her. Love would take its course in time. Surely, love was not required for his heart to be engaged as it now was. Admiration is a very promising substitute. At least his father would have been satisfied in one respect.

He thought it time to take steps to conclude the inevitable, and he would go about it in the correct way – no more inappropriate actions. In addition to the memories of his father's words, Mr. Bennet's rebuke was strong enough to warrant a change in behavior. He did not wish to imagine the gentleman's reaction had he actually caught them embraced against the house in the cold of the night. He certainly would not wish for his Georgianna to act in such a way, although it was possible she had to maybe even a greater degree. He shoved those thoughts away immediately.

He would act the proper gentleman starting immediately to honorably woo his woman to the, and he took comfort once engaged, _some_ liberties would be allowed. _That_ was all he required. He was in no rush to explore further intimacy until they were wed. He would show Elizabeth the seriousness of his intentions through his improved behavior. If he were lucky to find a moment with her tonight to tell her of his resolve, then hopefully he would not wait too long to feel her lips under his again.

Darcy thought it time to write his family to prepare them for the news. He already had requested his London housekeeper start to open the mistress's chambers at his London house when he escaped to town several days ago knowing he was truly well caught. He supposed it best to write Mrs. Reynolds as well. _As if Mrs. Ellis has not already_. Then he would write Richard, Aunt Ellen and Uncle Henry, his sister, and – _Oh, God, Aunt Catherine. Damn_.

Darcy recalled Lady Catherine's odious parson and having to refute the man's assertion there existed an attachment to Anne. It being called an embarrassment was an understatement. Luckily he also had a moment before taking his leave to make it clear to the parson under no circumstances his aunt should learn of his time in Hertfordshire. His business and visits to friends were not of his aunt's concerns. Mr. Collins acknowledged the demand, but Darcy did not trust the fool. If he was like the previous rector of Hunsford, Mr. Collins was no better than a lackey.

It was best to take all precautions. If he did not want his aunt descending on Hertfordshire, he would need to send her an express officially killing her dream of obtaining himself as a son-in-law, but perhaps it was better to precede the report by first sending an express to his uncle for assistance and awaiting a response. Blessedly, his Uncle Henry had always been on Darcy's side about the nonsense of an arranged betrothal and vowed to support Darcy when the time came to stand up to his aunt.

 _The day of reckoning is at hand._ Darcy found amusement in the idea even if he was somewhat terrified at the potential for the havoc caused by his aunt's wrath from atop her perceived perch as an authority in the family.

Returning to the task at hand and before Darcy furiously started penning all the missives he would need to write immediately, he picked up the ring and looked at again thinking how nice it would look on Elizabeth's finger. He knew now his heart truly was in this match… especially after everything which happened the previous night. Going from a near death experience over something as trivial as peas to knowing the full value of life in the most wonderful woman's arms, he gained much insight in a small span of time as to what he valued most and what was vital to his happiness.

He had no idea how to convey his sincere motives to her in a way she would understand. Although he hoped his regained gentlemanly behavior would make a strong case, he needed something more. He certainly was not a man to shy away from a challenge. Sentimentally was never his strong suit, but for her, he would try.

"Mr. Johnson, can you take a moment away from your duties and look into something for me?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Can you discreetly inquire as to whether there might be an engraver in the vicinity? If not, please have Burk wait before he rides back to town."

ELIZABETH SAT IN THE window of her mother's morning parlor alternately looking down the road toward Charlotte's approach and watching her sister blush under the whispers of Mr. Bingley. She did this all the while ignoring whatever it was Mr. Collins was muttering to her mother.

Mr. Bingley stood and addressed the matron, "Mrs. Bennet, would you mind if I took Jane for a walk through your garden?"

Before her mother could respond, Elizabeth spoke up looking for an excuse to quit the room, "I will join the two of you. I see Charlotte coming this way, and we would love to stroll with you and Jane, Mr. Bingley."

Mrs. Bennet's face showed the frustration of not wanting Elizabeth to interfere in her oldest daughter's budding relationship to the wealthy Mr. Bingley. Before she could admonish Elizabeth to remain indoors and out of Mr. Bingely's way, Mr. Collins stood and jumped into the fray, "Miss Elizabeth, I would be happy to escort you through the garden. I have quite a superior knowledge of flora and fauna around her Ladyship's grounds, and I suppose your excellent mother may keep similar specimens in her lovely park. For your benefit, I would happily walk with you and perhaps point out the correct name of any variety which strikes your fancy."

Elizabeth thought it rather presumptuous of Mr. Collins to assume she did not know the plants she herself often tended. _Half of them are already dead as it is the middle of autumn_.

She was thinking of the best way to politely suggest his superior knowledge was not required _nor particularly wanted_ when a very reluctant Mrs. Bennet did her duty to her husband to keep her daughters out of the path of eligible men.

Elizabeth was all shock when her mother spoke up. "Mr. Collins, I do so like to hear you read, and I know Lizzy has been expecting her friend's visit. Sir, why do you not sit with me just a while longer?" Mrs. Bennet added a flutter of her lashes toward the young man and patted the seat he had just vacated.

Mrs. Bennet did not have five beautiful daughters for nothing. Mr. Collins blushed furiously as the still handsome woman appealed to his vanity. "Of course, madam." He fumbled in his jacket for a book of sermons.

Elizabeth reached to the bottom side of her her wrist to give the skin there a little pinch proving this indeed was not a dream and her mother actually managed to save her from the company of the dreadful Mr. Collins. _Ouch. Not a dream_. Not taking a chance, Elizabeth removed herself to her room as quickly as her slippers would take her up the stairs to retrieve her warmest spencer, gloves, and bonnet. Ignoring Jane and Mr. Bingley completely, she picked up her skirts to run up the lane meeting Charlotte near the gate.

"Eliza, what has you running toward me like such a hoyden?"

Elizabeth laughed as she caught her breath. "I am escaping Mr. Collins. And, with my mother's assistance no less."

Charlotte regarded her friend suspiciously. Charlotte had observed Mrs. Bennet pushing her daughters towards even men of meager means for the last several years. She could only think of two reasons keeping Mrs. Bennet from seizing an opportunity such as Mr. Collins. "I am all astonishment at your mother discouraging an eligible man from your company. Lizzy, please tell me, is something terribly the matter with Mr. Collins as a potential match, or is it likely there is another, more eligible match in your future which is given the greater weight?" The inflection of her voice made it seem the latter suggestion was the most probable.

Elizabeth stopped and threw her hands up at Charlotte. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come Lizzy. You mother has been trying to marry you off for the last five years. Mr. Collins is as eligible as any man. He is the heir to your estate no less. Am I to believe you mother would actually keep you out of his way given his inclination to you last night? I cannot believe it unless she thinks there is the promise of something better. Do you deny my logic? And, with your sister's engagement announced last night, gossip is brewing for you as well. Do not think a _certain other gentleman's_ attentions toward you went unnoticed."

"Oh Charlotte, please do not…"

Charlotte loved her friend dearly, but she was not going to let her off the hook so easily. So, she patted Elizabeth's hand and gave her a mischievous smile. "My dear friend, you very well had two men vying for your attention last night, and do not think you are so undeserving either. However, you should exercise more caution as you are quite lucky you are not considered compromised after being absent from dinner at the same time as Mr. Darcy for such a duration. Your father was mostly believable in putting any alarm to rest, but I must tell you Mrs. Long called on mother this morning to discuss the happenings of last night. She and mother are still in the sitting room ruminating over all the fodder even now. I hurried over as soon as possible to warn you to be on your guard tonight at your aunt's house. Now for my great service to you, my dear friend, I believe you have much to tell me. Relieve my curiosity at one, Eliza."

"Charlotte, do you mean to tell me there is gossip about me and Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth quelled the panic rising in her breast.

"Yes, I do. But, do not worry so. It is not so condemning. Your father and your housekeeper took care of the worst of any speculation, which I will guess your father has already told you? But, it was obvious by Mr. Darcy's attentions he is smitten with you. I am sure half the room saw it. And, it did not seem he was best pleased to have Mr. Collins as a rival."

"I very much doubt my mother saw, for she would not be able to contain herself despite her promise to my father."

Charlotte appeared confused, and so Elizabeth continued. "I accidentally overheard my father ordering my mother to cease her marriage-minded ways until at least after Jane is wed. I think he is having much difficulty with the suddenness of Jane's nuptials. I cannot say I blame him totally, although I am so happy for my sister. But, there is no way my mother could manage the _temptation_ of Mr. Darcy as a son-in-law if it crossed her mind as a possibility." Elizabeth blushed at evening saying such a thing out loud.

"I am happy for Jane. Mr. Bingley should consider himself lucky to have earned Jane's hand. But, you have changed the subject, and it will not do. So, tell me, sweet friend, is there a possibility your mother acquiring Mr. Darcy as a son-in-law? How are you managing such a _temptation_?"

Elizabeth tried to evade her friend's questions with a playful swat to the arm and mirth she truly did not feel. "What a preposterous thought! Me and Mr. Darcy… I think not. You know he does not even find me exactly appealing." Elizabeth realized he most likely did find her so but was not ready to disclose such to her friend. "I will admit we have reached a truce since his friend is to marry my sister. Other than that, I do not find there is much else to say." Elizabeth was not skilled at deception, so she hoped rather than thought her friend believed the matter was as simple.

"Fine, Lizzy. Then I shall be left to draw my own conclusions, and therefore, I wish you much joy and felicity at your upcoming marriage. I am sure your father will manage the loss of his favorite daughter to a man of Mr. Darcy's worth. " Charlotte gave her friend a teasing laugh and walked ahead.

Elizabeth caught up and grabbed her friend by the arm. "Charlotte Lucas, you will do no such thing. I am not marrying him." Charlotte did her best impression of Elizabeth and raised her brow in question. Elizabeth relented. "Fine, prepare yourself for something dreadful."

"I doubt what you shall have to say is much dreadful. I am all anticipation."

"It is true Mr. Darcy and I have come to know one another a little better. And, he did apologize for his beastly comment the night of the assembly."

"You discussed such a thing? He apologized? How did this conversation come about?"

"One evening while I was tending to Jane, we happened to occupy Netherfield's library at the same time." Elizabeth paused and willed the blush away she knew to be creeping up her neck. "Somehow it came up, and he apologized."

"Lizzy, you are blushing. How exactly does this kind of discussion arise? Were you alone with him?"

"Well, yes, and… well, it just came up. He has been somewhat, I must own, somewhat forward since."

"Oh my goodness. In what way? You are a fool if you do not encourage him."

"No, Charlotte. I will not encourage him. And, despite his attentions, I am sure he has no intentions of the kind. He is a confirmed bachelor. And, I am not a suitable match for someone like him. He all but admitted as much."

"I do not believe it. Are you telling me his behavior has indicated one thing and then he told you – actually told you – he has no honorable intentions? Though I do not know him, I cannot comprehend him being a rake. Are you sure you understand him correctly? This is distressing if true. Has he attempted anything truly inappropriate?"

Elizabeth sighed and looked heavenward. It felt good to talk with a trusted friend who would listen to her concerns and reserve judgment. But, Elizabeth would not tell Charlotte everything – just enough for some much-needed perspective. Some things were too personal to share with her friend… or anyone.

"Honestly, I have no comprehension of the situation. And, no, he has not done anything ungentlemanly." _At least nothing I did not willingly accept_. Elizabeth's blush bloomed brighter. "And, he did not tell me directly I was not an appropriate marriage partner. I am not at liberty to tell you how I am aware he truly is not inclined to marriage as it was never my confidence to own, but I am certain of it. And, I beg you this conversation never goes past the two of us. I am mortified already by the whole ordeal." Elizabeth looked to her older and wise friend for confirmation of secrecy.

Charlotte just nodded with her wide eyes trying to take in what was being relayed. She recollected herself and shook her head. "How very strange. And specifically has been forward with you? In the same manner as last night?"

Elizabeth would not lie. An omission did not count if she were saying the truth. "Yes, very much in the manner of last night."

"Well, then… it is not so bad. Just let him know his place if you are so against his attentions and truly believe he does not have intentions of the marital variety. I would encourage you to think hard about this. He is a very wealthy and powerful man by all accounts, and he could provide security as we cannot imagine. If he has an inclination toward you, then grab onto it and provide him proper encouragement. If not for the sake of yourself, but the sake of your family."

Elizabeth knew she should not be surprised at her friend's mercenary speech, but she was. "You know my sentiments too well to know I could be persuaded by such an argument, Charlotte. There will be no match."

"Fine, ignore my practicality. But, you cannot ignore he admires you. No one who truly looked closely at him while in your presence could deny he was consumed by your charms. You always wished to marry for love, and here is your chance."

Elizabeth lost herself in the moment wondering the likelihood of him overcoming the marital aversions of which he had written to his aunt. She closed her eyes to recall his touch, his kiss, his comfort in the same garden she was now walking in with her friend, and thinking of all the lovely if somewhat roguish things he had said… and written. She saw his elegant, strong hand on the crumpled page in her mind _. He referred to me in the letter as a beauty and having talent. He called me the perfect example of everything a young woman should be. He wrote I had a brightness to cheer those in my presence._

Elizabeth shook free of her thoughts and gave a sardonic laugh recalling all else he had written. "No, Charlotte you are mistaken. There is no love lost between Mr. Darcy and me. I am afraid it is nothing more than a very strange kind of friendship which explains what you thought you saw." Elizabeth tried her best to smile at the contradiction that was Mr. Darcy and hide any hurt feelings from her friend. "So, you now must not perpetuate the idea any further."

"I will not persist to anyone other than you. I know what I saw. Further, he must understand he has raised expectations by the way he looked and spoke with you last night. Honestly, I am surprised you father permitted it."

"I am not sure Father did permit it exactly. I was thoroughly questioned after all the guests left. Anyhow, what you say does disturb me to some degree. I refuse to play into Mr. Darcy's game, whatever it may be. I have resolved I will be his friend for my sister's sake, but I will not be party to some strange flirtation if it is indeed what he has in mind. If I can manage a private conversation this evening, I am going to tell him this evening to restrain his behavior." _And, I will restrain my own_.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I have uploaded two chapters at roughly the same time. If you have not Chapter 15, please do so first. - M**

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DARCY ENTERED THE CRAMPED parlor wondering how so many people could fit in such a confined space. He spent an unpleasant afternoon writing his to his family and writing to his steward of some issues on the Pemberley home farm. His only was finding Elizabeth, looking for an unoccupied corner of the room, and quietly securing her hand. There were so many people about, he now realized it was possible he may not get the chance this evening. It was probably just as well since despite wracking his mind all afternoon, he had not decided exactly what he would say to her to make her realize he was in earnest.

The whole scene in front of him was frustrating beyond belief. Elizabeth's youngest sisters were running amok with some other girl who seemed entirely too young to be at such an affair. There were a group of officers loudly discussing something not entirely appropriate for mixed company. And, a several of the matrons were already obviously well into the punch. Who in their right mind would abide by such a gathering let alone host such an uproarious affair?

It occurred to Darcy this was the home of Elizabeth's family. Mrs. Phillips was Elizabeth's aunt, which made the woman his future aunt. _I have no need for more aunts_. He might as well find the lady and express his gratitude for the invitation to the evening's festivities.

After making his way through the room and doing his best to ignore the boisterous mixed crowd, he gave his greetings to the Mrs. Phillips with Bingley by his side and then parted ways to cull through the crowd of people looking for the one he most wished to speak to.

Finally catching the sound of her sweet laughter, his feet found their own way to her location. He saw the back of her blue muslin dress. She was sitting at a card table with Miss Lucas and a single gentleman with familiar dark hair. She leaned in slightly towards the man seeming to share a joke. A feeling dread accompanied the stirrings of jealous anger. As Darcy approached the table, the man turned his head and his profile came into view.

Darcy blinked several times and then willed his body to stay still. He counted to ten slowly as was his practice when his rage fought for the best of him. He could not very well make a scene in front of all of Elizabeth's friends and family. He saw the look on the man's face he had seen so many times before – a snake charming his Eve. _Not this time_.

"Pardon me, may I take a seat at your table?"

The three looked up to Darcy, but Darcy was focused on the reprobate he had known since he could recall his very first memories. It took all of his self-control to not call the man out on the spot for finding his way to this small out-of-the-way market town in Hertfordshire. How unlucky for Wickham to be here. Darcy wondered at it being a coincidence.

Before anyone could rise, Darcy shockingly extended his hand. Wickham paled at the anger in Darcy's face but tentatively reached out to accept. Darcy put a vice-like grip on the other man's hand not letting go.

Wickham regained his composure in front of the ladies and tried his best to not wrench away under Darcy's death grip. "Darcy, I had not imagined finding you here of all places."

"Likewise."

Elizabeth cleared her throat as to pull the gentleman from their trance. "Mr. Darcy, do you care to join us and take a seat?"

Darcy looked at the stunned faces of Miss Lucas and Elizabeth finally releasing Wickham's hand. He then bowed and took his seat. Somehow he recalled his better manners and only thought he did a passable job at donning an indifferent mask over the anger radiating from his face. However, he was fooling himself thinking he might be hiding the contempt for the gentleman across the table. He finally focused his attention on the ladies. "Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas, how do you do this evening?"

Miss Lucas answered for both. "We are fine, thank you. We are just starting a game of whist. Will you join us? You and Miss Elizabeth shall be partners. And, Lieutenant Wickham and I shall partner." Looking between the two men, she inclined her head toward no one in particular and stated plainly, "I take it there is no need for an introduction."

Darcy, now realizing Wickham donned an officer's coat after Miss Lucas's address, shifted his gaze toward Elizabeth. "Very well."

Wickham, determined to take advantage of the knowledge Darcy would restrain himself in front of the ladies, decided the best way to save face was to act as if there was no bad blood between the two. He had just arrived into this new town, and he could not afford a bad reputation. Truthfully, he could not afford much of anything after formally purchasing an officer's commission earlier in the day. "Miss Elizabeth, I shall be sorry to take any of your money during our game, but I shall not be sorry to take Darcy's." With a false smile easily seen through by all at the table, he grabbed the cards and offered them to Darcy to cut.

Elizabeth sensed how Darcy was beyond enraged and having a difficult time controlling his temper. He was staring at the stack of cards being offered by the Lieutenant she had just met an hour previous. There was obviously a story between the two though she was not so sure she cared to know the particulars given the tension colliding between the pair.

This time, it was Charlotte who cleared her throat to interrupt the standoff. Darcy again looked at his partner. Elizabeth felt he was on the verge of losing control. Hoping to avoid Mr. Darcy disrupting her aunt's party, she offered him comfort in the way of a smile. In order to catch his attention, she boldly extended her foot underneath the table to tap his boot. The moment she diverted his attention and how it provided some measure to the softening of his demeanor was not lost on the others.

Darcy took to counting again and thought if he could just concentrate on the lovely face before him, then he could get through this game. However, his eyes cut again to his foe until he again felt the soft slipper under the table which forced him to redirect a possessive gaze on Elizabeth. "Wickham, I doubt very much you will have the chance to win anything which is mine during this game." He then recalled Miss Lucas was his unfortunate partner for this round of play, so he offered, "No offense, Miss Lucas."

Charlotte responded, "None taken, sir."

They played mostly in awkward silence, and eventually Darcy and Elizabeth prevailed. The ladies shared a silent agreement and immediately excused themselves.

Elizabeth's aunt usually allowed her nieces the escape of her private parlor upstairs when gathering sometimes became too much. This was one of those times, and though Charlotte was not her niece, she was all but considered such. The ladies quietly retreated up the stairs to a back corner of the house away from the palpable hostility of their card partners.

Wickham and Darcy remained at the table. Darcy could hardly remain seated next to his one-time friend but nevertheless turned toward him and moved slightly closer as to conceal his speech from any of those in the vicinity. "What in the hell are you doing here, Wickham?"

"I just purchased a commission. Can you not see?" Wickham moved his hands along his scarlet coat. "I honestly had no idea we were currently sharing the same part of His Majesty's Kingdom, how unfortunate. Further, I had no idea we shared the same taste in women. Again, unfortunate for you." Wickham made the mistake of seeming pleased at his little joke, his fear had greatly abated after seeing Darcy show restraint for a full hour while the game was played.

Feeling somewhat safe in his current environment among a large crowd, the weasel in Wickham could not help but try to take down a prey too large, so he continued. "You are quite obvious toward Miss Elizabeth. Am I to wish you joy? It has been years, old friend, but if you are the same man as I suspect you are, I would be happy to provide you any advice you may need in bedding the tart. I can already imagine several ways to bring her satisfaction and would gladly share. I really do commend you on your selection. For some reason, I had always seen you as taking someone like your mousey little cousin as a wife. How surprising of you, Fitz." A sinister grin from spreading over Wickham's handsome face as he steepled his hands and looked towards the door the ladies recently exited through.

Darcy shoved his chair back and stood. He calmed himself to keep from shouting. Nonetheless, his quiet voice was menacing. "Outside, now."

Wickham kept his cool and uttered under his breath, "What, so you can shoot me in the street? I think I will stay where I am."

"If I had my pistol, I would shoot you where you sit. Outside."

Wickham stood and bowed toward the man he had come to hate many years ago. "Fine, but know I am not unarmed, Darcy."

WICKHAM FOLLOWED DARCY out of the parlour and directly through the front entry. With all of the commotion and high-spirited antics of Mrs. Phillip's gathering, they were not noticed slipping out by anyone caring enough to remark upon the subject. The men continued to an alley to the side of the dwelling which was out of the way of most windows and prying eyes.

Before Wickham knew what Darcy was about, he took a fist to the jaw and landed in the cold dirt. Darcy had not seen his former friend while in Ramsgate, only the aftermath. The miscreant had left town immediately after a disloyal servant had tipped him off. Darcy had several men hunting him down since. To come face to face with Wickham brought back all the strong emotions of learning his sister was on the verge of an elopement.

Wickham grabbed his face and looked up at his old friend standing ominously above him. "Christ, Darcy! That was wholly uncalled for."

"Uncalled for? Really? You bloody bastard. Not only for your disgusting words earlier, you know exactly why you deserved it and worse. I have half a mind to send an express to Richard now I have found you."

Wickham looked to Darcy with true fear in his eyes and regained his feet. "You would not."

Darcy could not help himself and laid Wickham out once again. "Damn you." Darcy turned his back on the man writhing on the ground and grabbed his hand. He removed his white kidskin glove to inspect the damage. His knuckles would greatly regret the second blow.

Wickham got to his feet again and this time stayed back from Darcy. "For what it is worth, I would have treated her well. If you would have given me my due with her, I would have proved it to you."

Darcy whirled around incensed the lout would even refer to Georgianna. "You are damned fortunate I do not have my own weapon. I would not think twice about killing on the spot for mentioning her."

Wickham's nature was naturally provoking and did not think Darcy had the gall, so he pulled out his concealed pistol by the barrel and handed it out to Darcy. "Here you are."

Darcy stared at it wanting very much to take it but deep down knew he could not. "Put the pistol away, you fool." Wickham tucked it back into his uniform.

Wickham thought it a good time to plead his case. "In all honestly, I had no idea you were in Meryton. I did not even realize I would find myself here until a few days previous. I spent the last of the money I had on a commission. You left me with no other choice."

"No! your life has always been your choice. You tossed away every opportunity. Do no blame me for your difficulties."

"Well, if you must know. I am here to start afresh."

Darcy darkly laughed at the thought. "I am to believe you? I am sure you will leave a mess here just as you do everywhere you go." Darcy thought of the potential for harm to this small trade town. It would not do to have a man such as Wickham in the midst of Elizabeth's family and friends, and he decided the chance for harm was too great. "You cannot stay here."

"I just told you I used the last of the funds to purchase my commission. I cannot desert; it is a serious offense. If you want to buy me out of it, then I will gladly accept provided you tempt me to do so. I do not relish being a lowly soldier anyhow."

Darcy considered his words. There was no way he would make it as a career soldier. Either way, Darcy believed a man reaped what he sowed, but not at the expense of this town and these people. "I am not offering to buy you out. This is the path you choose. I will talk to your commanding officer, let him know you are to be watched at all times, and then I will write Richard to intervene finding you a new regiment... if I can keep him from coming here to kill you directly."

"Leave me be. One word about your sister and her reputation will be ruined." Wickham affected his most intimating look, and Darcy was tempted to use his other fist.

"You are a fool. I hold enough of your debts to send you to Newgate. After what you did this summer, I will hold no remorse for doing so if you harm my sister or her reputation in any way. Further, while you are still here, you will not run up any debts and you will keep away from every woman whether shopkeeper's or gentleman's daughter."

"'Tis a pity. I felt Miss Elizabeth and I were getting to know one another quite well."

Darcy was now at the end of his rope and felt all the initial rage from the summer and more course through his veins. He grabbed Wickham by the lapels on his coat and slammed him against the house neighboring Mrs. Phillips'. "If you so much as look at her or any of her sisters, I will either see you dead or happily do it myself. This is your last chance. If you know what is good for you, you will stay to your quarters until you are transferred. I once thought you as if my brother, but I feel no more brotherly love for you. That part of our lives is done with. I hold no regrets in cutting you out of my life after all you have done to me and my family. Do not test me. You will leave this place, and we will not see each other again." Darcy eased up but still held the man in his grasp. He wished Wickham to the devil with every breath.

Wickham had known Darcy his whole life and never quite felt this threatened by him. While residing in the seediest parts of London for the greater part of a year, Wickham had seen his fair share of men pushed to the brink of madness and violence. He never thought to see such a sight in the eyes of his childhood companion. "Fine. You win, Darcy. As always. When I said I used my last funds, I meant it. Unless you spare me something, I will have no choice but to go into debt."

Darcy shook his head and reached into the inner pocket of his coat. He threw the blunt at Wickham's feet. "My threat is not idle. Stay to your quarters until you are gone. If I see you again, I will call you out. You are an officer now; thus, I will have no hesitation to shoot you dead or run you through on a field of honor. Georgianna, my father, and even I deserved better from you."

Letting go of the final clutches of betrayal in the most unlikely of places, Darcy turned his back on the one he once loved as his closest friend and walked back to the house.

DARCY COLLECTED HIMSELF on the empty doorsteps before walking back into the party to search for Elizabeth. He owed her an apology for his earlier behavior whilst playing cards. Truthfully, his equanimity was thoroughly amiss, and his first thought was it was she who held the key to restoring his balance.

He was waylaid from his purpose by Bingley's approach. The two moved to the side of the room and appeared to the others to be speaking of nothing other than the mundane.

"Darcy, tell me it was not Wickham I saw you exit the house with. I was about two minutes from coming to search for you myself."

"It was him in the flesh. I would prefer to talk of this later." Darcy willed his friend to understand.

Bingley objected, but Darcy did not hear as he saw Elizabeth coming down the stairs with an ashen face. He walked away from Bingley mid-sentence and like a moth to a flame, went to her side. He had hoped to draw calm from her, but those thoughts fled when he saw her wan countenance. She had no calm to provide.

"Miss Elizabeth, are you well? Can I get you something for your comfort?" Darcy did not even register Miss Lucas slipping away from her friend's side.

Elizabeth studied Darcy from his boots to his mussed hair. If her face was not so white or so grim, he may have considered it a compliment. She then looked to observe her many neighbors in the loud, cramped, and slightly darkening room. Determining they were well-settled away from prying ears and seeing those close enough to observe were too engaged elsewhere, she took a fortifying breath and spoke. "Sir, I am perfectly fine. I was hoping to have a short, private word with you and feel this is the best opportunity."

Darcy tensed up. He was not ready to pay his addresses after dealing with Wickham. Surely she was not suggesting they discuss their relationship now. He would have to put her off. "Madam, likewise, I was wishing to talk to you. May I call on you tomorrow, and we can have a private word then?"

"Sir, this will only take a moment." He relented with a nod. "Mr. Darcy, I must ask you not be so forward in your attentions any further. I think we both know this will not lead anywhere good. I do believe we are under the speculation of some gossip though it is not irreversible as of yet. For my sister's sake, I am willing to be your friend, but it would be better if what happened last night not happen again."

Darcy could not accept such a speech. "Surely you are not serious."

"I am perfectly serious, sir." Color and strength instantly flooded back into Elizabeth's face at Darcy's rebuttal to her resolve.

Darcy took another look around and took a step closer to further guard his words. "I do not think we should discuss this here. Is there somewhere else we may speak that would not completely improper… now?"

"Sir, I do not think such is a good idea." She was holding her ground. After witnessing the recent violence in the alley from the upstairs sitting room window, she was not sure she wanted to be even alone in a dark corner with the man in front of her.

To prove her point, he pulled himself up into somewhat intimidating and haughty stance. "Madam, I do believe there has been too much done to leave things unsaid. Please do me the honor of your explanation. If you insist on not moving to a more inconspicuous location, we can speak right here for all I am concerned." His current emotional state did no credit to his patience.

Over his shoulder and through an opening in the crush of people, she saw her mother look in their direction and did not wish the fanciful lady to get any ideas. She was considering walking away but first spied a stain of blood on Mr. Darcy's glove.

Elizabeth was a born caretaker and healer. She had read several books on the medical arts and enjoyed learning from the local apothecary. She and Jane were devoted to assisting their mother in caring for the tenants of their estate. Elizabeth spied Mr. Darcy favoring his hand after hitting Lieutenant Wickham while she had watched on from her perch on the second level of the home. As much as wished it otherwise, her better sense was not a match for her compassionate nature and care-taking ways. There was no other option but to offer assistance. At least there was the added benefit of getting out from her mother's watchful eye.

She moved as if she was going to talk to someone else but spoke quietly to the gentleman with the still hard look on his face before she turned to a group of ladies. "In a few minutes, exit the far door in the corner of the room – where the men keep disappearing to enjoy my uncle's liquor. Count two doors down from my uncle's study and enter that room."

Elizabeth did not look over her shoulder to register the shock on Mr. Darcy's face. If she would have been thinking more clearly, she would not take such a chance to be found in a room alone with Mr. Darcy, let alone an angry Mr. Darcy, and especially at an event in which all of the socially decent folk of the Meryton vicinity were in attendance. But, she was not going to leave his hand untreated. She decided she would do a service for anyone of her friends, and the thoughts of her reputation, as concerned for it as she was, escaped her mind once she saw his glove.

About ten minutes later, Darcy was able to excuse himself without much notice and escape to the room Elizabeth mentioned. He walked into what he deemed a small office. Other than a torch outside the window, there was no light since the sun had fully set not a half hour previous. He did not know where to sit, so he stood uncomfortably in a place he felt he should not be. _What am I doing here? This is foolish_.

After last night, he fully intended to act every bit the gentleman around her from there afterward to convey his sincerity. Meeting her in a dark room, even at her insistence, was not keeping in line with his new resolve. He was disappointed with where this night had taken him. His good intentions had diverted at the sight of Wickham and even more so at her insinuation there was nothing further between them.

Before he could think further, the door opened. Elizabeth was carrying a basket. He did not say anything as she pulled open a drawer and took out a candle. He watched the small flame bathe her face in a soft glow, and he was entranced not caring any longer about the impropriety of secreting away with Elizabeth in her aunt's home, or anything else for that matter. The glow upon her skin temporarily erased the unpleasantness of Wickham and her earlier words which were contrary to his wishes.

"Mr. Darcy, come."

He did not need to be told twice to answer her beckoning words. He now stood before her ready to do anything she could conjure up to bid. Looking at him strangely, she commanded him to sit.

"Do not be alarmed, sir. I am sorry for asking you here, but this is the clerk's office and no one will enter. Will you please place your hands on the desk?"

Darcy had no idea what she was about, but she was so beautiful and had a gentleness about her manner he did not care, so he placed his hands before her in silence. His breath hitched when she pulled off his glove. His hand instinctively reached to grasp hers, but she pulled it away and made a show to rummage through the basket she brought with her.

He finally found it within him to speak. "May I ask what you are doing?"

Hand still in the basket, she looked up to meet his eyes with a blank look forced on her face. "Sir, you are injured. I am going to care for your hand."

He was taken aback. "How…"

Elizabeth held up his glove showing a smear of blood to which he immediately felt contrite but did not know how to explain. She spoke up alleviating the need. "Mr. Darcy, I was upstairs with Charlotte when I saw you and Lieutenant Wickham outside." She did not venture further as she took up his hand to examine the new swelling and the where his knuckles had split open. She was amazed how up close his hand seemed somewhat rough with callouses. She recalled his hands from the night before as being quite soft. She schooled her thoughts and went to tending the small open wounds.

For Darcy, he was torn between the shame of her witnessing his altercation leading to his injury and the feeling of her tender ministrations. "I am very sorry you saw that, Miss Bennet."

"Yet, you are not sorry for acting in such a way, sir?"

Darcy snapped himself out of his daze and pulled back his hand. "No, I am most certainly not. You know not of what you speak, Elizabeth." He was not of a mind to explain his actions at present.

She pulled back his hand to apply a paste into the knuckles. "Very well, sir." She remained silent for several more moments as she put together all she had observed since meeting the officer earlier in the evening. "Do you consider your acquaintance a dangerous man?"

Darcy closed his eyes. This was not the conversation he thought he came to this room to have. He debated how to respond. The simple truth won out. "Yes, he is." He chose not to elaborate.

"Are _you_ a dangerous man?"

He was entirely offended she would have to ask such a question.

As Elizabeth pulled out another jar of some type of cream, he stood and said, "Thank you for your care, but I shall be fine." She reached out from her chair and grabbed his hand again to gently implore him to resume his seat. Despite his discomfort and pique with her questions, her touch felt heavenly enough to immediately forgive her; he sat.

"I am going to rub this into the swelling and bind your hand. You should still be able to slip on your glove. But, you need to take this with you and apply it again before you retire. Do you understand?"

Darcy nodded his head and then thought to her questions. "What makes you ask such a thing about him… and about me?"

"I do not quite know. I think it was the way he looked at you while were playing cards. There is something lurking behind his happy manners while you were in his presence. It was clear his politeness to you was not such at all. It was rather concerning."

"And, your question of me?" Darcy attempted to keep the edge out of his voice.

"You at least owned your concerns with the gentleman and did not hide behind a simpering smile." She gave him a significant look and reproached him. "It is no concern of mine, but I cannot approve of the aggression which earned you these wounds and swelling on your hand here."

Darcy all but slammed his good hand on the desk while leaning forward to fix her with a fierce look. He did not welcome his actions being condemned despite the feeling of her fingers working a thin bandage over his own. "I am not a violent man. You should not think it. You should consider there are some things beyond your understanding."

Elizabeth did not take kindly to the intense tone in his words nor his posturing. "Well, that should do it, Mr. Darcy. You may replace your glove. Take this jar, and you may be on your way. Take care to not encounter anyone as you leave the room please." She gathered the medicinal things on the desk.

He gaped at her recalling why he agreed to meet her in the first place. "Do you not think we should at least finish the discussion we started earlier?"

"No, sir, I have nothing further to add. Please see yourself out." She then looked back to him with an icy look of her own and thought better of leaving things there. "I suppose I do have something to add. If you truly think your brutality towards Mr. Wickham is justified in a way in which the population here is in any danger, I ask you please go find my father and provide a proper warning. It would not do to have a wolf in sheep's clothing in our midst."

Elizabeth stood with her basket and blew out the candle. "Well, sir, since you are just sitting there with your mouth hanging open, then I shall exit first. Please ensure no one sees us enter the party at the same time. There are many people, and it would not do to incite further gossip. Please take care of your hand. Have a good evening."

She then walked out of the room full of disgust at his lack of remorse for behaving so beastly towards another person – deserving or not. Only later would she recall the feeling of intimacy at being so closely situated and tending to his person in the candlelight.


	17. Chapter 17

**Recap:** The last chapter saw Darcy confront Wickham, and Elizabeth was witness to all. She also asked Mr. Darcy to stop his attentions to her as she is becoming concerned her mother will catch on to her intimacy with Mr. Darcy. There is also some harmless gossip floating around which in Elizabeth's mind needs to be squashed.

 **A/N:** Thank you for your reviews and your patience with my update delay. Please take the time to review this chapter if you have a spare moment. The feedback is so helpful and provides encouragement!

I wanted to respond to a few reviews – see the bottom of the page for notes to individuals. Thanks and have a happy Halloween! - M

PS - I do believe there is a ball coming up in the next chapter, and I am most excited about it!

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MR. BINGLEY RECLINED into the deep blue velvet with a free hand draped over the arm of the chair and a cup of tea in the other. Enjoying the midday sun on his face from through the window, he closed his eyes thinking of the woman who was soon to be his bride. He could imagine his lovely Jane, as his wife, finding him alone in the room, situating herself nicely in his lap, and her running her hands through his hair. His lot in life was most fortunate indeed.

Before he got too far in his musings, he was rudely interrupted by Darcy's balled-up handkerchief thrown into the side of the head.

Darcy entered the room to see his friend sporting a stupid grin and obviously in the middle of some reverie. "I thought we were to play when I returned, and you have not even readied the table. You are quite the lovesick fool it seems."

Bingley was put out to have such perfectly pleasant thoughts disrupted. "Cannot a man take a short rest in his own home without the rude interference of a demanding houseguest?"

"On that score, I will leave you to entertain myself. By all means, continue your pathetic woolgathering."

"I was not woolgathering, just enjoying some peace and quiet after listening to all the grumbling this morning from Caroline. At least Louisa seems to have come to the point." Bingley then inspected the handkerchief, thankfully finding it clean, and handed it back to Darcy.

"I seriously doubt it was either of your sisters on your mind right now."

Bingley sent a devilish smile in his friend's direction. "I suppose you caught me out."

"I do believe it was the ludicrous look on your face which gave it away."

"Fine, I shall not deny it then. I am a mighty lucky man."

"I am sure you are, just as sure I shall be nauseated, but please, do not let me stop you. Go ahead and sing her praises. Just retrieve the ivory while you do so. " Darcy was glad for his friend's good humor. It rubbed off and was much needed after a morning spent with George Wickham's commanding officer, Colonel Forster.

Although the discussion started off on the wrong footing, the good Colonel eventually was brought to reason over the seriousness of the matter. Darcy also dispatched a letter to Richard prior to his visit to the encampment. Soon, he hoped, all would be well with Wickham settled far away from Hertfordshire under the watchful authority of a notoriously firm officer.

Bingley's voice snapped Darcy back to the present. "As much as I enjoy winning your money and showing you up, are you certain you can play with such nasty bruising on your hand? Tell me again how such an injury came about?"

Darcy was thinking of how best to respond when a servant entered with an express. It was dated from Rosings the previous evening:

 _Nephew,_

 _Firstly, my congratulations you have the good sense to get yourself leg-shackled. If your description of the lady is half-accurate, she shall do you and your name credit._

 _Secondly, the beast is tamed for now. The odious duster sent word of your public denunciation of an engagement to Anne. His tale is much different from yours, but there was no mention of your pending nuptials to your Miss Elizabeth. You must be keeping yourself under good regulation, or more likely, purposely keeping your courtship discreet? Either way, make haste, once the dragon knows what you are about, I do not guarantee I can keep her at Rosings._

 _God forbid Catherine ventures to your wedding_ _…_ _best to keep the announcement out of the paper until it is absolutely required. It may take an act of God Himself to contain her wrath once she knows your plan to marry._

 _As Catherine is my sister, I am bound to have a familial affection, but bless me if the woman does not try the patience of Job. I do believe you owe me something nice from your cellars for my effort on your behalf while you are busy wooing your lady. Be thankful I have a good memory of my own courtship and have the empathy which to take on the unpleasant task of managing your most troublesome aunt._

 _-Matlock_

 _PS_ _–_ _In the meantime, keep yourself from such foolish company as your aunt_ _'_ _s parson, Fitzwilliam. She says he is visiting some relations in Hertfordshire. Best for you to steer clear of such low company if it can be helped._

Darcy groaned. Despite his warning, Mr. Collins must have sent an express to his Aunt Catherine, and as such, he was correct to send his uncle immediately to Rosings. But, it was now obvious he should have been more explicit on the connection between Elizabeth and his aunt's rector. Surely, upon meeting Elizabeth, his family would forgive the sin, which was not of her own doing.

BINGLEY AND DARCY ENJOYED the ride to Longbourn. It was a crisp day with the pleasant sound of leaves falling away from their trees and the smell of smoke escaping from the hearths of the cottages dotting the landscape. Fortunately, the rain overnight did not make too much of a mess in the lane. Bingley whistled gaily until Darcy bade him cease.

"Stop ruining my good mood, Darcy. You have been quite the stick in the mud at times in the past few days." Bingley sat up straighter in his seat. "May I speak freely?"

"If I say no, will it stop you?"

"I do not suppose it will, so bear up, my friend."

Darcy raised his brow challenging Bingley to put out there whatever it was which needed saying.

"Go slow and be deliberate. She is not a fox to be chased at breakneck speed. Approach her in a similar manner you would approach a wild stallion. She is fiercely independent, and you should earn her trust before attempting to bridle her."

Darcy halted his horse and practically fell off his saddle at the frankness with which his friend spoke. "I beg your pardon, Charles."

Bingley stopped his mare to look his friend full on in the face. "Fitzwilliam, I am just about your closest friend. Since your cousins are not here, someone has to advise you. Pray, do not take offense. I am not blind. It is clear you are partial to Jane's sister. Any fool can see it. I do not know what the exact situation happens to be, nor do I expect you to confide in me. But, my advice comes from the best source… her sister."

"You are telling me Jane Bennet has compared her own sister to a male horse and asked you to interfere?"

Bingley nervously laughed. Darcy was indignant, and Bingley was not used to seeing anger directed at himself, but his conscious demanded he push forward.

"Not exactly, Darcy. I do not intend an affront and only wish to help you. Jane has not said too much and certainly did not call her sister a wild animal. But, I could easily interpret what she related as a warning.

From Jane, I understand Miss Elizabeth to be somewhat stubborn, yet very sensitive at heart, and one to hide her true feelings behind humor or an exaggerated confidence. Upon that intelligence, I now can even see for myself she is just as guarded as she appears open. Though Jane has not given anything away in detail nor trespassed on any loyalty, she is anxious for her sister. She gave the hint some trouble started when Miss Elizabeth came to stay at Netherfield… MY home, Darcy. It is MY responsibility to ensure any guest under MY roof is protected, and with that means keeping a young woman's sensibilities protected as well."

"So says the man who entered a woman's sickroom to propose marriage."

Bingley looked embarrassed and acknowledged the hit. "Darcy, I am not insinuating you have acted with anything less than honor. But, I must ask, what are your intentions? She will be my sister in a matter of weeks."

Darcy bristled at his closest friend questioning and only pardoned the man because of the long-standing relationship. Later upon reflection, he would deem Bingley's question as fair, but his pride was too fragile at the moment. "I plan to marry Elizabeth. Do not compare her to a horse again."

Bingley beamed at Darcy. "We shall be brothers. I could not ask for a better one."

Darcy returned his gesture with a wry grin wanting the uncomfortable conversation over. "Likewise, Charles. Now, can I interest you in a race to Longbourn's gates?"

DARCY ENTERED LONGBOURN front door and immediately sought out Mr. Bennet. He had already suffered several unpleasant letters and conversations since the evening prior, what was one more?

Mr. Bennet did not seem to welcome him and only casually thanked him for the carefully worded intelligence of Wickham. Truthfully, Darcy expected more of a serious reaction considering the strong words in their last conversation which happened in that same room the night he was almost found in a compromising position with the gentleman's daughter.

Walking back to the drawing room, Mr. Darcy met Mr. Collins in the passageway and acknowledged the man with only the barest of nods. As much as Darcy wished to make good on his earlier veiled threats to the man, now was not the proper time. Total disaster had been averted by way of his Uncle reaching Lady Catherine at the same time as Collins' letter, so he was content to deal with the parson on a more convenient occasion. He was mollified by the fact Mr. Collins disappeared into Mr. Bennet's study and would be out of the way hopefully until dinner.

Elizabeth's eyes followed Mr. Darcy as he entered the room executing a most proper bow to Mrs. Bennet. Mr. Bingley had announced to the room Darcy was seeking out a private audience with Mr. Bennet, and there was quite a commotion of speculating what was so important as to warrant such an action. Elizabeth was thankful her sisters and mother quieted upon his entrance and let him be.

Although she hoped rather than knew their conversation was not concerning herself, her nervousness would not be free from the pit of her stomach. _One foolish man kisses me, and I become every bit my mother_ _'_ _s child saddled with nerves_. She smiled to herself and shook her head at the foolish thought. _Surely he speaks to papa of something other than me._

Mr. Darcy, for his part, expressed the same neutral demeanor which had arrived with him when he came to Meryton all those weeks ago. He did not look to Elizabeth and placed himself at a window across the room, and she was glad for it.

Mrs. Bennet was content to give her attentions to Mr. Bingley for the moment as Mr. Darcy isolated himself from the company, but Elizabeth could not help at wonder at his mood and wonder what business he had with her father.

When there was an appropriate opening, Mr. Darcy turned toward the group saying he wished to tour the garden asking if anyone care to join. It was too much of an opening for Mrs. Bennet to keep herself in check, despite the frequent admonishments from her husband to suspend her scheming ways until Jane's marriage. "Lizzy loves to walk, Mr. Darcy, and she is not bothered by the cool air as much." She turned her daughter. "Lizzy, be a dear, and please show Mr. Darcy the garden."

Jane came to her sister's defense. "Mama, Mr. Bingley and I will accompany Mr. Darcy as well. Perhaps Kitty, Mary, and Lydia would also like to join us."

"Jane, absolutely not. I will not have you catch your death before you walk down the aisle. If you like, you may show Mr. Bingley your workings in the still room or maybe take a turn in the back parlour if the gentleman wishes to stretch his legs. I am afraid I need the others upstairs to assist me for a few moments, is that not correct, my dears? Will you please excuse us?"

Lydia and Kitty giggled behind the ribbons they held before they made to follow their mother, and merciful Mary spoke up. "Mama, if you can spare me, I would enjoy a stroll around the garden and wish to accompany my sister."

Elizabeth willed her mother to allow the reprieve Mary offered, but the heavens did not favor her as Mrs. Bennet insisted Mary was much required in the house for the time being.

It was not lost on Elizabeth how Mrs. Bennet gave no thought Jane's health in order to secure a husband by sending her out in the cold rain not even a fortnight earlier. Now the man was caught, of course, she must be kept safe from even the hint of a draft. Resigned to spending time alone with Mr. Darcy by even her mother's design, Elizabeth went to retrieve her spencer and gloves.

"YOU HAVE AN ALLY IN MY MOTHER, Mr. Darcy, if it is a conversation with me you truly seek." Elizabeth kept a proper distance and declined the arm he offered. She intended to stay in full view of the house to allow for as much propriety as one could while strolling the garden. She was adamant to herself she would cease any opportunity for clandestine encounters with the gentleman from Derbyshire.

"I would have been perfectly contented had any of your sisters joined us… especially if it would have increased your comfort." As much as he wished to speak to her in privacy, he sensed her apprehension after the previous evening. As much as Bingley's words chaffed, his point was a good one and in line with Darcy's own resolve to act every part the gentleman.

"How very gallant of you, sir." Although Elizabeth spoke with sincerity, Darcy did not miss the flicker in her eyes of what seemed most likely sarcasm. He could not help but to respond in kind to the hint of challenge.

"However, I will not deny my selfish appreciation for your mother's suggestion you walk out with me alone. You see, your very kind mother has done me a great service as I had very much wanted to speak with you on some matters of import." He schooled his face into an indifference which covered his satisfaction in knowing he achieved his aim of provoking her in the same manner as she did him.

"Indeed? I will be sure to give her your gratitude." Elizabeth stopped to capture Mr. Darcy's gaze with a stern eye hoping to convince him of the seriousness of the matter. "Sir, I pray you speak quickly. I truly do not wish to give my mother any romantic inclinations concerning you and me. It was bad enough you had to see my father privately as soon as you crossed the threshold. Did you not think, sir, of the conjecture it may cause in my mother's drawing room after gossip has spread of a flirtation existing between us? You should be thankful, Mr. Darcy, as you heard for yourself that day in this garden, my father has extracted a promise from my mother to temporarily leave off her matchmaking ways."

Darcy was taken aback from the idea that seeking out Mr. Bennet for a private word would cause Elizabeth's ire. He only went to see Mr. Bennet upon her command from the night before, and so he sought to remind her. "Madam, it was you who asked me to go to your father with a warning about George Wickham. Your request had merit, so I addressed your father as soon as I possibly was able to do so. Shall I always endure such a rebuke after doing your bidding?"

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of frustrating relief. In all the commotion of the night before after they arrived home from her aunt Philips, she had all but forgotten she asked Mr. Darcy to properly warn her father. "Forgive me, I thank you for doing as I asked. Surely something more interesting shall come along which shall render our supposed flirtation firmly in the past. May I ask of your particular warning to my father?"

Darcy thought of how much to say. He wished to take her back in the house, find a warm fire and tell her all of it. It would be comforting to have a soft hand in his while he related his tale of Wickham and the woe he caused. But, he realized such intimacy was not possible until he could convince her to become his wife. So, he prevaricated. "Madam, do you really see our... well, our flirtation, as you put it, a thing of the past?"

"Sir, I shall not speak on _that_ subject until I am satisfied with my question. I do not need the particulars. I just wish to understand your warning to my father as I intend to reinforce it with my impressionable sisters. Do not deny you have seen the way they run after officers."

"I am afraid I only spoke to your father specifically of Wickham, as he is the only officer in the area known to me. I would not dare to presume to take your father to task over the behavior of your sisters in relation to the officers."

"Mr. Darcy, I did not expect you would discuss the improper behavior of Kitty and Lydia with my father. However, the caution against one officer might assist _me_ in checking my sisters' conduct to all."

Elizabeth turned back to the house as they ventured farther behind the hedge. Even while keeping a safe distance from his side, Mr. Darcy completely unnerved her. She could not help feel the heat from his body try to pull her in against her will just as she could not help spending the most of the previous night dreaming of how his dark eyes had reflected the candle light while she nursed his hand. Only in view of the house did she deem herself safe, so she headed that way to escape the escalating danger of being alone with Mr. Darcy.

Darcy had other ideas and relished any moment to have her to himself; he did not wish to waste the occasion. Reaching out his gloved hand, and without intending to be so bold, he caressed the sleeve of her jacket. "Miss Elizabeth, I must thank you for your diligent care last night. Will you please do me the honor of a private audience for just a few minutes longer?"

His low voice broke through her strength. She turned toward him and wordlessly accepted his request.

Darcy did not offer his arm but she followed him deeper into the garden anyhow.

"You must forgive me for my loss of temper last night. I very much wish you had not seen such an ungentlemanly display on my part." She gave a solemn nod to which he continued. "Until I came upon him at the card table, I had not seen George since the winter before. However, I have diligently sought him out since this summer without success."

Elizabeth remained silent and did not reveal any curiosity on her face, but he felt it was imperative she understand his reasons for his strong reaction to the man.

"You see, George Wickham is one of the worst cads in all of England."

Elizabeth was shocked at such a bold statement though she should not have been after witnessing the gentlemen's exchange from her aunt's private sitting room. She could not hide her interest in the matter any longer. "And, how do you know this, sir? What is your evidence?"

Darcy reckoned if he was to marry this woman, and he strongly felt bound by honor to do such, then he should place his trust in her. "George was as close to a brother to me without being a blood relation. My earliest and admittedly fondest memories of my childhood include him. He is godson to my father. Being our old steward's son, he grew up on our estate. He was given all of the privileges of a gentleman, and he squandered his good fortune in ways I shall not relate to you… though I know you have a liberal enough mind to assume the worst at my speech, and you will not be far from the truth. He has become a most dissolute person. George has wronged me, my family, and my father's memory in a way such shall not be forgotten nor ever forgiven… I shall explain…" Darcy did not realize the way his jaw tensed and brow furrowed revealed just how much turmoil he harbored inside his heart and mind.

Elizabeth's generous nature won out over her earlier decision to keep her distance. Without thought, she slid her hand through his arm still tucked behind his back and dared to hug herself briefly to him in an offer of quick comfort. She saw he was greatly distressed and knew somewhere in her soul he was voicing a truth which pained him to relate.

"Please, sir, it is clearly upsetting for you to speak of such things, and you need not do so for my benefit. Although you are quite a perplexing character I do not always understand, I do believe I understand enough of your good nature to be confident your anger is justified. Pray, say no more on the subject; you do not owe me any explanation. And, you are welcome for the care of your hand. I would have done so for any friend."

Darcy felt the weight fall off his burdened chest at her words. She understood him and believed he was not the brute she deemed him last night. He was grateful. There would be time later to relate to her all of the heartache with Georgianna.

He reached out and placed his hand over hers. "Thank you, Miss Bennet. Your kindness is a balm to me." He looked at her from the side and raised a brow hoping to put her at ease from the heaviness of the conversation. "So, I am again your friend?"

Elizabeth sighed. If they were only friends, it was the strangest friendship she had experienced. But, she did not want to hear him spouting off about some pretended need to marry her, so she tried to match the lightness he tried to affect. "Sir, considering your close friend and my dear sister are to be married in less than a fortnight, I dare say it is only natural we should be so. Do you not agree?"

He decided to relent to her perceived wish of dancing around the most pressing subject of their future. He would not compel her now, so he purposefully pushed aside the conversation he most wished to have. Perhaps in a few days, he could broach the subject of marriage and why there was no other option in his mind. Until then, he would do his utmost to show her he was every bit the gentleman capable of restraining himself against his desires. "Very well, Madam. I am honored you would consider me as such."

"Well, my friend, perhaps we shall return to the house?" Elizabeth looked away, took a breath and met his eyes again. "Sir, perhaps we may also attempt to put any rumors of a romantic nature to rest once we return to the drawing room?"

"I will gladly return to the house and do my best to ignore you the rest of evening and into dinner if you wish it… although it will take a great battle of will inside of me to cease from looking upon you or to keep from drawing near enough to hear your musical laughter, your sweet song, or your witty conversation."

Elizabeth blushed and forced herself to take his compliment as a joke. "Sir, your little charming speech is precisely what I warn against. Go ahead and sing my praises now before we go back inside. At least out here we are not in danger of someone overhearing such a jest and deeming it more than it is. Please go on and exhaust yourself so your battle will not be great once in the company of my mother or any of her gossiping friends."

"Madam, I am not known for jesting but rather known for saying directly what I mean to say. However, if you wish it, I will act every inch the gentleman and not give your mother's friends any reason to include you in their gossip."

"Thank you, sir."

Darcy stopped their progression toward the house turning to look Elizabeth hoping she would feel the genuine feelings behind his next words. "Miss Elizabeth, you must allow me to apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior. I would name the instances to which I refer, but they have now been too great to count, and I am sure you know to what I refer. I resolve to be a better man in your presence, alone or in the company of others, and I sincerely hope to gain your forgiveness."

Elizabeth stared at the man before her; his humble speech matched his demeanor and she was left feeling overcome and short of breath at the vulnerability he displayed. Did he regret his behavior so much? If she were honest with herself, she could not wholeheartedly regret what they had shared. She resolved on them returning to a more polite friendship knowing he was not of a marriage mindset, but she knew she would treasure the first attentions she had received from such a man despite his not having any true intentions behind them. His apology now added to the great confusion of her feelings toward Mr. Darcy. Every moment she was with him compounded his character in her mind. Her thoughts on the man were whirling in her head as she became lost in his eyes trying to find some missing piece which would bring order to the chaos.

He pressed his hand over hers to bring her out of her trance. "Madam, are my transgression too great for your forgiveness?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath and offered him a slight smile. "Sir, you are much pardoned if you will extend me the same courtesy. I would like to very much go on as friends, especially for the benefit of the two people who I imagine mean very much to us respectively. We shall forget any impropriety as if it never happened."

Mr. Darcy started and stepped back from her. What she voiced was not the intent of his apology. He only meant he would approach her with all the respect due to her and avoid compromising her in the future.

"Sir, can you not forgive me as well? For I am just as guilty of our behavior as you."

"Madam, you mistake my meaning. There is nothing to forgive on your part – "

"Very well. All is settled. Let us go inside." Elizabeth did not understand the confusion on his face, and she was not sure how much more unsettling conversation she could take. She turned and started to walk back the house.

When he did not move to follow, she threw her head back determined to extinguish the seriousness of what was still showing on her companion's face. "Come now, Mr. Darcy. Or, shall I send Lydia or Mr. Collins outside to accompany you if your aim is to see more of my mother's garden?"

The mischief in her smile called him to follow and put aside his distress. He would have to make her understand somehow things were too far gone for them go on in a strictly platonic fashion. _Why is this such a great difficulty between us?_ He had at least gained her understanding of his outburst toward Wickham and forgiveness for the inappropriate forwardness in his prior conduct. But, somehow, he also convinced her they should forget any of their intimacy had ever happened. Bingley was correct, earning her hand was akin to taming a wild beast. For now, he should be thankful he escaped their conversation with some progress and be glad to follow her out of the cold.

ASIDE FROM MRS. BENNET'S jubilant effusions on the upcoming wedding of her eldest, dinner was a rather subdued affair in comparison to the last meal shared with the gentleman at the Longbourn dining table. Mr. Darcy's fortitude was certainly tested over the evening, but he was convinced he succeeded in paying Elizabeth no marked attention while maintaining an air of indifference for the company as a whole; the lady also believed he did a credible job which surprisingly led to some feelings of disappointment.

Although Mr. Bennet seemed to be rather engrossed in whatever silly speech Mr. Collins was spouting off during the evening, his attention was covertly directed in observance of his second eldest and the man who so longingly looked after her when he thought no one observed. The father's heart was wrenched in seeing his favorite daughter return the same look in those small, unguarded moments.

Mr. Bennet could not be considered a religious man among those few who knew him best, but while lying in his bed with an arm around his sleeping wife, he sent a silent prayer asking for his favorite daughter to not be swept away from his life just yet.

* * *

 **Avanell** – thank you for the kind words! When your review popped up this weekend, it reminded I must make time to post an update.

 **Rosalinne** – To answer your question… it happens more towards the end. I do think it has provided some confusion, but since I already put it out, I am not going to take it down for now. It certainly has its place in the story, though.

 **The Reader** – On the Merriam-Webster website, one of the definitions for stay is relating to the corset. I suppose I learned of the word during all the reading I do of JAFF and historical fiction. As far as the prologue, it is meant as a look-ahead in the story to give readers a view into what will be a major conflict. Not sure if it suits the purpose yet as an actual prologue, but it is a key scene in the story later on.

 **Lily Draco** – I hope this chapter answers your comments about knowing more of the 'why' behind his aggression to Wickham.

 **Jim Doherty** – I can't thank you enough for pointing that out to me! I will fix that during the editing process. Glad you are enjoying the story.

 **Cartasdeamor, wonderwoman1970,** – I often think I am too sadistic at times as well. God forbid someone mess with my sister – Wickham totally deserved Darcy's ungentlemanly punch.

 **EngLitLover** – I hope this chapter satisfies your concern about E understanding D's problems with W. But, I have to warn you this is not Darcy's lowest point. Life as the hero of my story is not so easy… but, don't be discouraged. He is handsomely rewarded at several points for his sufferings.

 **42** – Your words mean a lot. Thank you.

 **Deanna, unnamed 'Gues, irislim, Alekay22** – Thank you for the very kind words!

 **LMFG** – So, I do think Wickham will go away directly for the most part. But, he will pop up again in some important conversations in which both Darcy and his sis learn to open up. As far as dueling… I am still researching this. I am aware of it being a gentleman thing or something between officers and being illegal by 1811. What I don't know if Wickham becoming a militia officer counts enough to make his socially eligible to duel Darcy… I tried to allude to that in Darcy's dialogue. I am going to figure out the proper answer before editing. Thanks for bringing it up though!

 **MissPhryneFisher** – Sorry for adding to the confusion. The length, word count, and storyboarding has been my greatest challenge next to proofreading. What I meant to convey: One (1) story that can kind of be broken down to three (3) main sections. I do plan to publish after a major, professional edit, and it will be one book.

I had mapped about 35 chapters for the whole story which is about 160K words based on my average chapter length… more than I anticipated! Things don't always go as planned, and I am a little behind in relation to word count and where I wish to be in the plot. But, for now, I am taking the advice of an author friend and just letting the story come out in my writing. It will be what it will be, but I do hope to go back during the editing process and make certain things more concise. (See I obviously have a problem with succinct writing as my response to you took 148 words!)


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** My apologies for the posting delay! I have a project due at work on Nov 28th that is consuming my free time. The good news... I will post another chapter this afternoon (the ball scene ended up taking two chapters). And, I hope to post at least two over Thanksgiving break, but we shall see. J

 **Recap:** The last chapter saw them come to a sort of understanding about Wickham, although not all was revealed. But, he opened up to her, and she was kind in return. She also asked him to basically cool his heels since the clucking hens of the neighborhood (including her own momma) were starting to pick-up on the chemistry between the two. He resolved to practice more restraint. Let's see if he can hold himself to the ever-high standard of a perfect English gentleman during a ball where she is looking rather hot-to-trot. J I am not convinced he can act with all propriety or hide behind his mask any longer in her presence. You see, my Mr. Darcy has now tasted her kiss and resolved to marry the woman. He can't run from her silly family nor pretend he unaffected by her charm.

* * *

FROM HER WINDOW, Elizabeth sat surveying the fields of Longbourn as the setting sun was drawing the world below into long shadows. She was to dance the opening set with Mr. Darcy later in but a couple of hours. The conflicting feelings stirring inside of her made her almost wish Mr. Collins, the oaf he was, had asked first.

Since their better understanding several days prior while walking in the garden, Mr. Darcy had been one part his former haughty self, unwilling to participate in conversation while in a large group, and another part her witty friend when no one seemed to be paying attention to his conversation.

Mr. Darcy was certainly no parts the semi-charming man who dared to stare too intimately, speak too openly, or act too brazenly when there might be a stolen moment. It seemed her request for him to retreat from the field was taken most seriously by the man, and now she was not sure how she felt about his easy withdrawal.

While she was relieved his more gentlemanly behavior would keep her safe from gossip, her pride was a degree mortified by how easily a man once enticed by her charms could cool his ardor by her simple request. Upon further reflection, she decided the only course was to curse her vanity. Why should she care so much? She already decided Mr. Darcy could only ever be her friend; his interest in her person should not be of such concern to her. He saw the vastness between their consequences in life as his letter confirmed – a letter she recently thought best to keep hidden and forgotten. She also knew she could never love a man who put so much stock in station and fortune. It would only do to accept his friendship at face value and think of his perplexing character no more.

The sound of soft slippers padding toward her forced away from the unidentifiable feelings of yearning.

"Lizzy?"

"Oh, Janie. You have never looked more heavenly." Elizabeth turned around and was truly delighted by the radiance of her sister. "That dress shall very well make your fiancé keel over. Mr. Bingley will be so enraptured, he may take you off in his carriage to Gretna Green at the sight of you."

Jane was outfitted in a new dress of the palest blue silk and looked the standard to which every woman should aspire. Her elegantly braided and twisted hair boasted a matching silk ribbon and naturally framed her face in a way to highlight her striking cheekbones and doe-like sapphire eyes.

"Lizzy! You are terrible for making me blush so. Mr. Bingley has been everything gentlemanly. I do believe he will manage to keep his patience for a mere six more days... despite this... this..." Jane blushed further as she embarrassedly waved her hands toward what she perceived as her immodest neckline.

"Never fear, dearest, I shall lend you my lace as soon as we arrive. My dress has a shred more modesty than yours; I can do without. Mother will be so delighted with everything once she arrives, she will not notice the addition to your gown."

Lizzy continued as she grabbed Jane's hands while the older sister nodded in approval to the scheme. "Mrs. Walker has truly outdone herself with your dress. Who says one must travel to Town for such fashion when it can be found right here in Meryton?"

Jane gave way to laughter and then gave careful inspection to her dear sister. "You look quite beautiful as well, Lizzy. What of Mr. Darcy? I am sure he will not be able to remove his eyes from you all evening. I dare say he finds you more than tolerable?"

Naturally, Jane would broach this subject before they left for Netherfield. Elizabeth knew her sister would desire to protect her if warranted. They had discussed Mr. Darcy in some detail, but Elizabeth kept her most intimate encounters with the man to herself in an attempt to not concern Jane.

"Lizzy, before we leave tonight, I must know you are well. You have been staring out too many windows of late with that faraway look in your eye. I cannot stand the thought of you being uncomfortable. Though I cannot find fault in his behavior of late, and you seem to tolerate him rather well, I will be more than happy to ask Mr. Bingley to intervene on your behalf if Mr. Darcy's attentions continue to discompose you so. This is by far the grandest event we have attended while not in Town, and I only wish for your happiness this evening."

"No, please, Jane, there is no need to involve your betrothed. Mr. Darcy has amended his behavior very well since the events of Netherfield. I even think we shall be friends for your sake. Do not mind him; I do believe he has seen the error of his ways. If he shows any attention to me, I think it is only because he knows, as well as I do, we shall be thrown into company for as long as I am your sister and he is Mr. Bingley's friend.

I suppose if you see me far away at times, it is only because my best sister shall leave me soon… although do not mistake me for being anything other than blissfully happy at your finding such love. Nothing in the world means more to me than you, Jane." Elizabeth hoped she was convincing.

The sisters embraced, and Jane whispered in her sister's ear. "I shall never be far from you. And, my dear, at some point you must consider your own happiness before others, even mine. Please do not be afraid of it." Elizabeth, in want of strength, hugged Jane tighter as they heard Mrs. Bennet call for them all to make haste.

DARCY PACED IN THE dark library occasionally looking out the window searching for Elizabeth's coach among the many parading toward the house. Seeing how the ball was in honor of her sister, he could not imagine why the Bennets were so delayed. Half the guests had already made their arrival.

Finally, in the distance and illuminated by the torches flaming along the drive, he saw Mr. Bennet's horses pull the conveyance closer. Should he immediately go downstairs or wait?

He decided to remain, so he could delight in her beauty in privacy and without the scrutiny of watchful eyes that so often became wagging tongues. He wanted to freely smile at the sight of her instead of hold his delight behind an inscrutable mask that was required at a ball such as this.

Elizabeth stepped out of the carriage and he watched as she took in her surroundings. Her pleasure was his. Her bright smile did more to illuminate the night than the torches trying their best to overcome the chilly darkness. He watched as she turned from the spender of Netherfield's façade and beamed up at her older sister. And, while the tall lady with the blond tresses piled upon her head was worthy of having her portrait hanging in some great gallery to be admired by the masses, it was the next in age who was the one to draw him closer to the window and evoke his passion from the mere glimpse of her face.

As the Bennet family walked forward to the steps, he saw Elizabeth pull Miss Bennet behind a bush directly under his window. Although they were in a shadow with their back turned to the commotion of the drive, he could see their forms perfectly well from where he stood in the darkened library.

His jaw went slack, and he grabbed the frame for support as he saw Elizabeth part her cloak and remove the lace tucked in the bodice of her dress. He was no gentleman standing there gawking at the unique view his vantage point afforded him. What would it be like to pull the lace from her dress himself replacing the delicate fabric with his touch? His mind was a hundred miles away as Elizabeth transferred the lace to her sister and the pair adjusted themselves in an effort to preserve Jane's modesty.

Opening his eyes after a thorough reminder of his promise to himself to act as a gentleman, he calmed his ardor and made his way downstairs. He thought he had done a credible job of making her comfortable in his presence over the last several days. He would do his best to not ruin his progress on this evening.

"MADAM, YOUR HAND?" Darcy bowed and extended his own. It was the first dance and the set Miss Elizabeth Bennet had promised to him. He never danced the first and rarely engaged in the second, third, fourth, and so forth unless the trouble could not otherwise be avoided. But, on this occasion, he was most happy to lead his partner to the floor.

Something altogether pleasing was in the air of the ballroom this evening... and it very much smelled like lavender. He fought to keep the smile from his face and a bounce out of his step; giddiness was an excuse for a boy – not at all acceptable for a man. He well knew the expected manner in which he should present himself. Even in a relaxed country society as this, it would not do for a gentleman of his standing to dance with such an eagerness on display, nor would it be acceptable to keep looking in the direction of where he knew a piece of lace once sat tucked in her dress.

Whatever god of fashion intervened on his behalf to make low necklines all the rage, he would be forever thankful. Although in gentlemanly restraint, he forced his gaze above her neck. Her face was just as lovely to him anyhow. He would force himself not to look at how her simple white muslin dress put her figure gloriously on display. He also thought it best to not focus on the thin ringlets gracing her neck that tempted his vision downward.

The beginning chords were struck, and Elizabeth raised her eyes to meet his from the small distance across the floor, and they took their first steps into the dance. She could not make him out. He seemed agitated but not unhappily so. He was more akin to the bubbly wine she had once in her Uncle Gardiner's home the year previous. Thinking it best to pop open the bottle of the man before her to relieve the pressure underneath his stately exterior, she offered up some cheek as her spirits rose. "Mr. Darcy, we must have some conversation lest our neighbors think you deem your partner as merely _tolerable_."

Mr. Darcy missed his step but quickly fell back into the dance. His brows came together, and he stammered, "Miss… Elizabeth… you must know I am heartily sorry for my words…"

Elizabeth sought to put him at ease. It was not her intent to berate him. "Sir, you must desist, for you cannot be sorry for something which has already been pardoned, and I do recall your pretty apology on a previous occasion." She had not meant to allude to the night of their first kiss in such a way and knew the blush on her cheeks was evident to him. She could only be glad the dance forced her in front of another shortly after she spoke the words.

Not intending to cause awkwardness between the two of them, she had only meant to tease him into speaking. He would just have to learn her happy ways if they were to be friends and much in company in the future.

Since he was still silent as she was handed back to him, she pushed thoughts of _that_ night out of her mind and tried again. She was not one to concede to silence so easily, especially when she knew Mr. Darcy capable otherwise. "Come now, sir, we cannot have you glowering at me and the good people of Hertfordshire believing you are nothing but a taciturn ogre. They should not think _you_ as only tolerable."

She cast him her best smile which finally pulled him to conversation. "Madam, of what would you like to speak? I do believe poetry is something we both find quite pleasurable as I recall a night not too long ago, upstairs in this very house, in which we had a most invigorating discussion on the subject. I believe it is was the same night of my apology for that most unkind remark the night of our first meeting. Allow me to say I was a blind fool. And, I must thank you as I did not realize I was forgiven." Somewhere in that statement, he found an easy manner and returned her smile with a sly one of his own.

Her composure was completely lost as it was her turn to stumble. It was not his compliments nor the memories of the pleasure of that night his words evoked which threw her off balance and out of step. It was the satisfied, handsome slight upward turn of his lips. _Does he not realize he looks every part the rake?_ It did not help when she felt him reach to save her from falling to the floor in a very unladylike heap. Her skin tingled where his fingers caressed her dress ever so slightly as he pulled them from the soft fabric once she recovered her footing. How they were to go down the line together soon, she did not know.

His behavior and manner had been all that was correct over the past several days, and now he was broaching the matter of their past indiscretions as if he were pleased with himself. They needed to regain their formality with each other by way of a safe discussion, and she intended to redirect him. Unfortunately, she only succeeded in furthering their banter.

She threw her shoulders back and boldly caught his eye as she moved in front of him. "Sir, I do not think poetry is a subject in which we can manage as we know where it has led us before, so we must find another. It would not do for us to repeat such a _conversation_ here in front of my family and neighbors. It would be most scandalous; do you not agree?"

Darcy was not chastised by her remark in the least and could only laugh at the thought of doing such a thing as kissing Elizabeth in the middle of the dance floor, for he knew that is what she referred. "I cannot say I entirely agree with you, Miss Elizabeth. I especially enjoyed that particular discussion and where it led, and I only hope to continue it in very much the same manner, but I will concede the middle of a ballroom is no place for an impassioned debate of poetry with you, madam. I can think of many more proper and more private locations as to not incur scandal."

Elizabeth was better prepared this time as she would not allow herself to become a swooning miss at his forward words and, so, kept her footing. _The devil is trying to provoke me. What happened to his improved behavior_? "Sir, it is quite vexing to disconcert your partner with such insinuations, and during a dance no less. For shame, Mr. Darcy."

Whether she smiled to keep appearances or in response to his flirtatious words, he was not sure. But, he hoped it was the latter for he wanted to prove to her that if she could tease him, he was more than capable of returning the favor.

As she passed in front of him again, he could not help but hold her hand a moment longer than required and spoke low. "Madam, my apologies as disconcerting you was not my aim, but based on how your blush becomes you, perhaps it should be. I take great gratification in it."

They separated at that moment to form the line. Her only response was the tempered shock written upon her face. However, Mr. Darcy was quite satisfied with himself. While he hoped he was discreet enough not to cause unseemly talk, he could not help but feel the conversation was a personal victory in the face of his normal shyness. Bingley smiled all the time, surely it would not do any damage to show a little charm. His aunt had recommended he practice after all in the last letter she sent.

ELIZABETH MADE herself absent during the third set. Her feet needed recovery after the second set with her cousin. She and Charlotte made their way to the fresh air found on the terrace. The coolness was welcome to both.

"Eliza, I must acquaint you with some news before supper. Pray, let me finish before you speak."

All Elizabeth could do was nod. There was a fear struck deep in her breast as her mind went back to the last private conversation she had some days previous with her friend concerning the gossip over herself and Mr. Darcy. She was sure neither she nor the gentleman did themselves any favors during the first set. It was surely apparent to anyone watching she blushed most of the way through their dances, and if she thought he was just a little too familiar with his hands, then any observers may have reached the same conclusion.

Her surprise was great then when Charlotte next spoke. "Eliza, I know this ball in in honor of your sister and her engagement to our host. However, my father has petitioned both Miss Bingley and Mr. Bingley for an opportunity during supper to announce my engagement."

Elizabeth had no idea as to who Charlotte could be engaged, but nevertheless, her arms immediately flew to encircle her closest friend outside of Jane. Before Elizabeth could speak congratulations, Charlotte disentangled herself and held Elizabeth at bay. "Lizzy, hear me out before you rush me with congratulations on my happiness. I am engaged to Mr. Collins. Your father made it clear to him you and your sisters would be unavailable for marriage almost as soon as he arrived. Mr. Collins must marry to appease his patroness, and he has offered for me.

'Please do not judge me. I shall be happy with a home of my own… even if I ache at the prospect of someday becoming the mistress of your childhood home. You must know I shall be happy enough to live out the days at the parish home of Mr. Collins in Kent; please believe me. I know you may consider me mercenary for wanting my own establishment, but, Lizzy, I am a burden to my family. This may be the only chance I have."

Elizabeth's shock wore quickly enough to the point she was still able to offer her hardy congratulations. She only hoped her mother's happiness over Jane's wedding would be enough to temper any outburst during supper.

As they went back into the ballroom, Charlotte hugged herself to her dear friend. "Lizzy, thank you for your understanding. I hope to offer you the same felicitations upon your announcement as you have offered me. From what I witnessed so far this evening, I dare say I shall not have to wait long at all. Your Mr. Darcy is quite besotted. Ignore anything I may have said before. I am happy for you." Charlotte gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and a look that begged forgiveness for her tart little speech. She then took herself quickly away to her Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth was stilled at Charlotte's impertinence. Looking around, her first inclination was to ensure no one heard the words of her friend. Unfortunately, the sneer on Miss Bingley's face confirmed Charlotte's voice carried too far, much too far. Elizabeth refused to yield and remain rooted to the spot. Miss Bingley, having stewed for almost a fortnight under her brother's roof and rule, could not help herself despite any threat from Charles or Mr. Darcy.

Caroline sauntered up next to Elizabeth with a false smile and cold eyes. She did not attempt to hide the disgust in her voice. "He will not marry you. You and I both know he has deemed you not appropriate to take as a wife. You do yourself a discredit to allow any dalliance."

At Elizabeth's refusal to engage in conversation, Caroline became more desperate. "You are too stubborn for your own good. From one woman to another, listen to what I say. He has a history of breaking hearts where he goes. You will be no different. He will leave after my brother's wedding to attend the season where his family will find him a wife suited to his station, and you will not even be an afterthought. I shall be your sister very soon, so it would do well to heed my warning. Walk away with honor. If you continue on in your indecorous manner, your reputation will only be a discredit to both of our families as they will be soon tied together by this farce of a wedding. I shall not be ruined any further by an association with a family such as yours."

As Elizabeth was determining if Miss Bingley deserved a response at all, for Elizabeth greatly considered the implications of giving the cut to her hostess and soon-to-be sister, she saw Mr. Darcy stalk toward their direction. By his dark look and by the disdain Caroline exuded, Elizabeth thought it best to attempt to diffuse any potential for a scene at her dear Jane's engagement ball.

She gently touched Miss Bingley's hand and offered a serene smile. It was more than the mean woman deserved by half, but Jane was foremost on her mind. "Miss Bingley, thank you for the advice and for planning a splendid ball for my sister. How you managed so many fresh flowers at this time of year is a mystery. Further, you have no cause for worry on my behalf. Please do not concern yourself. Pray, excuse me."

Caroline's anger boiled as right in front of her, she watched Elizabeth intercept Mr. Darcy and move him away.

MR. DARCY CAME face to face with Elizabeth and was only slightly moved from his anger by the calming look she gave him. He did not know what Miss Bingley had said, but he could see it had upset Elizabeth. Why she forced a smile and kind words to the woman after looking so grim, he could not imagine.

"Sir, I believe you secured the supper dance, and I do believe you are fortunate in that I will hold you to your obligation."

He certainly did not feel like dancing now, even with the beauty before him. He had warned Caroline Bingley to keep her vitriol from the Bennets and especially Elizabeth. He gave a withering look to Bingley's sister and was surprised and then vexed at the scorn he received in return. He had never seen such a look on her face, not that he cared a whit at her defection from courting his good opinion. He pulled himself up straight, looked her in the eyes, and then dismissively looked away.

Elizabeth gasped. Although she considered doing the same to Miss Bingley moments before, she knew she would and could not. She was, therefore, shocked at the obvious cut by Mr. Darcy. How was he even to remain for the rest of an event in which she was hostess? She looked around; it appeared no one took note. Miss Bingley was deserving of no charity, but to be dismissed in such a manner within her own home was beyond the pale.

"Come, Miss Bennet." Darcy captured her hand as the music signaled the set was to begin. Bingley and Jane were leading again, and most everyone paid their respects to the handsome pair of happy faces in the middle of the ballroom floor by keeping their attention there.

Mr. Darcy led Elizabeth to the far edge of the crowd and leaned into her side as close as he dared. "Madam, please go to refresh yourself a minute or two after I walk toward the balcony. I shall meet you in the library. I beg your indulgence. I am not equal to the company of others or dancing at the moment."

He did not give her time to decline his request and moved quickly toward the exit. What was it with this man skirting propriety? As she observed those around her, she agreed his plan could be easily carried out with little notice to herself. He was obviously angry and in need of her friendship. She would go if only to offer support and then firmly remind him of his promise to not put her in the way of gossip.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** _I posted Chapter 18 but a few hours ago. If you have not read chapter 18, please read it first._ Now on to the conclusion of the Netherfield Ball.

* * *

ELIZABETH WALKED INTO THE darkened, cool library and came to stand by Mr. Darcy.

"Sir, I think we are courting danger. I should not be here, and you should not have asked it of me."

"Forgive me." Darcy stood looking out the window and said no more.

"Mr. Darcy, if you called me up here to stare out over the night, I must tell you I am not of a mind to appreciate your request. This is a ball in my sister's honor, and I dearly love to dance. Being here, with you, does not suit either purpose. However, if you wish to speak of what is bothering you, I will listen and then be on my way."

"I dare say your sister is a lucky woman. It is unfortunate she will be tied in some way to Miss Bingley, but my friend loves your sister. He is the best of men, and your sister seems to have a great admiration for him which shows her sense. It was not evident at first, but I clearly see it now. I will add that he also is equally blessed to have found a woman worthy. They will do well together, I wish them every joy, but I admit to having a great deal of envy for my friend's happiness."

There was too much in his words for Elizabeth to consider, and it in no way answered the question of his anger.

The set below would be ending soon, and it was imperative she were down at supper. Her mother's outrage at Sir Lucas announcing his daughter's engagement to Mr. Collins would need to be checked. She could clearly envision her mother taking a sip of wine, happy as a lark sitting prominently toward the head of the table as Sir Lucas stood up to make his announcement stealing all of her mother's victory over the neighborhood. She just prayed Mrs. Bennet would not spew her wine over the fine tablecloth.

In typical fashion, Elizabeth's humor always found inopportune times to exert itself, and her mirth escaped by little bubbles of laughter at the thought Mrs. Bennet ruining Miss Bingley's table decorations in such a way. If she could have only warned her father of what was to come.

"I do not understand how any of what I relayed deserves you laughing at me, Elizabeth." His hands were clasped behind his back, and his eyes were fierce. She was brought back to the present by his address.

Even in the dark of the room, she could see his temper was getting the better of him. Had she not known him better, he would be quite intimidating. He was impeccably dressed in a formal black coat with a crisp, white shirt. His hair was perfectly combed back with not strand out of place. His tanned face was smooth over his strong features. Such perfection of looks in a man did much to lend to his commanding presence, but it was the hard look in his eyes and his clenched jaw that she supposed would make most quiver. She refused to wilt under his severity.

"Sir, despite your instance of using it, I did not give you permission to use my name in such a manner. I also apologize for my laughter. A humorous thought entered my mind an ill-timed moment. I was not mocking your sentiments. Now, would you care to know what I found to be so distracting? Perhaps it will drag you out of this horrible mood?"

Darcy let out a huff. What was he doing up here? He had meant to act with all propriety tonight. Letting his anger toward Bingley's sister get the better of him and summoning Elizabeth to a dark library when they should be dancing was not one of his better ideas. "Pray, continue Miss Elizabeth."

She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. "Thank you. You see, my mother's greatest achievement shall be upstaged tonight, and I do not dare miss it." She then frowned. "I dare not miss it for not only my own amusement but to save my family from embarrassment if such a thing were possible. You see, Sir Lucas has received permission from his host and hostess to announce the engagement of his eldest daughter, which happens to be my dear friend. Shall you guess the fortunate man?"

"I do not know enough of the local population by name to have a suggestion."

Elizabeth was disappointed in his willingness to play along. "He is not from the area. My poor, dear Charlotte has accepted one Mr. William Collins, my father's heir and your aunt's parson. It is not a laughing matter as I fear for her future sanity in being tied to one as him. But, my only reaction in knowing how my mother shall bear the news in such a public gathering can only be mirth lest I am overcome by shame. I fear what is about to happen at dinner will be the talk for many months to come." Elizabeth let her rueful laughter have free reign in the library after quietly speaking such thought. Mr. Darcy, startled by her outburst, grabbed her by the waist and pressed her face against his chest.

"Please, madam, quiet yourself. Someone may hear you if you do not desist. The last thing I wish is to compromise you. You would resent me forever if such were to come to pass."

Elizabeth's laugh died the moment his hands fell on her body and pulled her close. The smell and feel of him was a familiar comfort she did not realize she desired so strongly. As she was held to his chest by his strong arms, all other thoughts of the evening fled from her mind. How she was to deal with the scolding man who was now tracing his fingers along her spine, she had not a clue. How it was possible to long for a caress or a kiss from a man she did not love was a fascination to her. Was it only human nature to want the physical expression of affection, or was it something more complex in which certain people were drawn only to one another? If the latter were the case, why was fate so cruel to give her a bodily need for a man she was sure her rational mind did not desire? The thought deserved study at a later time. For now, she must allow her good sense to overcome her weakness.

She pulled away.

"Mr. Darcy, I appreciate the thought of protecting my reputation, incongruous as it seems since we have skirted society's rules too many times to try our luck further. Please tell me why you wished me to join you here, and then let us return before we are missed for super."

Darcy thought the truth would serve him well. "I was angry at Miss Bingley for speaking rudely to you. I do not know what she said, but I could see her manner from across the room. She has been warned by her brother as well as myself to conduct herself better in the presence of you and your family. After witnessing such a display, I was in no mood to dancing." He added in a quieter voice as he looked from the window to her face, "But, I did not want to miss your company."

Elizabeth was not equal to the moment. Despite her heart being in her throat, she found her voice and a playful manner to counteract emotions she would rather not feel. She could not allow herself into his embrace again, and his words held almost enough charm for her to seek it. The desire in his eyes told her it would be the work of a moment if she could not lure him back to the party downstairs. As much as she was curious about his feelings of anger toward Mr. Bingley's sister and the protection he had seemed to lend to her, she let the subject drop.

Stepping further away, she turned an animated smile to him despite it being out of place with the tension lingering between the two of them. "Sir, if you do not want to miss my company, then you had better follow me down to the supper table as soon as may be." She arched her brow and nodded her head toward the door when he did not respond.

Darcy understood her attempt, and he reluctantly agreed they should go down to supper. The newly found rogue inside wished he had the ability to tempt her back into his arms, and the vulnerable man wished he had the words to gain her trust. However, it was the gentleman within that conceded. "Very well, Miss Bennet. I shall follow you in a few minutes."

As she took a few more steps in the direction of the door, he recalled the earlier scene downstairs with Miss Bingley. "Elizabeth, your kindness in the face of that horrid woman's rudeness was truly the act of a gentlewoman. Your grace is all that is admirable." He paid the compliment with all the feeling it deserved.

She thought he had said many pretty things in the course of the night so far, but such a commendation upon her character moved and humbled her. Charity was hardly her first thought when dealing with Miss Bingley. It was only Jane's influence that kept her from being unkind. She did not deserve his praise.

Elizabeth demurred and cast her eyes downward thinking she should strive to be better.

It took all of Darcy's restraint to not cross the distance taking her hands in his and speaking the rest of his admiration at seeing her reaction.

She keenly felt the need to respond to his words. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy, although I do not fully deserve the honor of your compliment for I only thought of my sister in choosing not to deliver a harsh set-down." She started to move to the door again but thought better of it. "And, sir, your comments concerning Jane's marriage are sincerely received. Any man who recognizes the merits of a most beloved sister can do nothing but gain my favor."

Elizabeth recalled that same sister's words from earlier in the evening about finding happiness for herself and could not help but ask in hopes to comfort him, "You said you envied your friend?"

Mr. Darcy gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, and she continued, "I implore you, do not be jealous of their joy. It is an insult to your character." She looked him squarely in the eye and offered some of Jane's advice. "Seek your own." _And let me be_. She spun around and left the library.

He knew he should allow more time to pass before following her. But, her message called him to action, and he was nothing if not a man of action. He lengthened his stride and took the stairs two at a time.

IN THE DINING ROOM, he caught Elizabeth just as she was going to take a seat across from her mother. Surprising her, he pulled out her chair. She did not expect him to be back to the dining room so soon after her own return.

"Miss Elizabeth, I pray you will pardon me for missing our dance as I was unavoidably detained. Pray allow me to make it up to you by joining you for dinner?"

Mr. Darcy has said the words loud enough for half the room to hear if they were listening in their direction. She appreciated that he was trying to squash any talk of them being absent together from the previous dance.

She could not reconcile the man before her now and the man she just spoke to in the library not ten minutes earlier. He seemed completely free of his ire he held not even ten minutes prior, and he was even smiling at those around him. Pushing her skepticism to the side, she was happy enough to have perhaps helped pull him from his aggravated disposition.

The smiling did not last long. Dinner was everything Elizabeth thought it to be and more. As much as she hoped to find some entertainment by way of her mother's reaction to Sir Lucas's announcement, she found she was not equal to the task of laughing in the follies of others when the time came. Her mortification was already complete by the time the announcement of Charlotte and Mr. Collins was made.

Her family gave themselves over to ridiculousness the whole of dinner, and she could do not but observe after her first efforts to limit the damage were in vain. All of them, even her father at one point, gave her reason to wish to be far away. That Mr. Darcy was witness to her shame was almost too much to bear. At least, she thought, Jane was too blissfully happy while shining in the light of Mr. Bingley's attentions to notice.

Mr. Darcy's thoughts mostly mirrored her own. He sat in wonder over how Mrs. Bennet could lose her composure so and actually spew the wine from her mouth upon the announcement of this newest engagement. If this was not to be his future mother-in-law, he might have found some amusement in the situation, but there was no amusement in the idea he would have to call the obnoxious woman before him 'mother'. He also noted the rest of the Bennet family, save the eldest sister, did nothing to redeem the situation but worsen it.

 _If my honor were not engaged, I suppose this display would have sealed my fate, for I would have been mad to not run as far away from this family as possible… if I only had the opportunity._

He immediately felt guilty at his thoughts. It was not Elizabeth's fault she was tied to such a family, just as it was not his fault he had to account for horrid relations of his own.

He started at that thought. He also was bringing embarrassing family to their match. At least her family was not malicious. The same could not be said for his aunt, Lady Catherine.

He took in the grim lines of her face and realized she must be feeling all the unpleasantness of the situation. He leaned toward her, and said, "We all have relations for which we must blush. Do not fret so."

She was taken back by Mr. Darcy's empathy. Although she appreciated the effort, the humiliation at the hands of her family was complete, indeed.

Blotting her mouth with her napkin, she gave her dinner companion a sideway glance and spoke for his ears only. "Sir, you are too kind, but also not blind. I do believe they are competing for who can provide the most embarrassment to my family name. Do not tell me you are not offended by their behavior. I can see your disapproval."

Bringing his wine glass to his lips, he whispered, "Nonsense. I may have been offended at first until I thought of my own shocking relations. Your family is nothing to my Aunt."

Elizabeth shook her head and continued with her plate.

Due to the high spirits of those around them and the distraction of a newly announced engagement, the couple thought no one was much-paying attention to themselves, and so, there were times that seemed to allow for some semblance of a private conversation. Mr. Darcy only wished to bring Elizabeth happiness, so he chose a subject he knew she would appreciate.

He nodded down the table. "My friend is rather enchanted. Would you not say your sister has him under some kind of spell?"

Elizabeth could not help be amused at that. "I think for a man soon to be married, it is only fitting he should find himself bewitched."

"You should hear him speak of 'his dear Jane', my apologies – his words, not mine - when he is sitting around waiting for the proper hour to call. He has no less recited her virtues than I am sure a hundred times." Mr. Darcy gave a thoughtful pause. "I suppose you are correct. It is all that is proper for a man on the brink of marriage to continually extol the raptures of his betrothed, and I suppose it is my duty as a friend to listen and contribute where I can."

Her look questioned him. "Sir, you contribute by adding to my sister's virtues? I appreciated your compliments earlier while in the… well earlier. And, I am glad you humor your friend by honoring Jane in such a way."

"I must admit, I do not know your sister well enough to sing _her_ praises. But, there is _another_ lady in which I have found much to admire. And, what I meant is that it would not do at all for me not to have my share in those conversations with Bingley in which we _both_ list the virtues of the women we respectively admire." Since Darcy had told Bingley of his intentions, he had been indeed opened up to his friend on an occasion or two referring to Miss Elizabeth kind and intelligent.

"You discuss such topics with your friend? Well, sir, I must own you and Mr. Bingley sound no better than Kitty and Lydia pining after the officers."

He leveled his gaze at her in response to her arch humor, and he gave all the appearance of being an imposing and stern man. "Madam, I resent that."

She took his words as a challenge and feigned a sweet, innocent shock. "Sir, you are too much of a gentleman to punish me here and now. So, the comparison must stand, and I shall laugh at the diversion it brings to me."

"I believe my temper is not so forgetful. When you least expect it, I will exact my revenge. In the meantime, I ask that you stand up with me for the last set."

"Sir, I think that would be rather bad form. For you are already on my card twice. I cannot imagine how my mother shall react upon seeing your name a third time."

"Ah, but I was only able to claim one of those sets. Surely I can claim the last set in lieu of the one I missed?"

"If it remains open, sir, then it is yours. I would not count on it. I am not usually slighted by men, and I daresay most find me a tolerable partner."

Darcy was naturally embarrassed by his unkind words, but she clearly meant them in a tease as she did during the first set. "Miss Elizabeth, you are absolutely correct, and because so, I will claim the right now and not take my chance to losing you to some other." He picked up her card and wrote his name neatly on the last line.

THE LAST HALF of the ball found Mr. Darcy reverting to his naturally stand-offish behavior at the edge of the crowded ballroom, unless of course, he was talking with Miss Elizabeth. May remarked on how he singled her out with his good humor.

Before the last dance was to start, Darcy retrieved a cup of punch to take to his upcoming dance partner. She was standing with Jane and Bingley staring out over the crowd of people, and he hoped, searching for him. Coming up behind her, he whispered, "Dancing is silent poetry."

Elizabeth whipped around as the flush crept up her décolletage. "Sir, that is rather not appropriate. Tell me, am I to expect such suggestive speech during our dance, or are you telling me to expect your silence? As much as I have taken you to task about the latter, I tell you it is preferred over the former."

He handed her the cup and caught Bingley's eye. Bingley nodded in understanding and moved himself and Jane away toward a group of matrons nearby. Bingley could always be counted upon to distract those Mr. Darcy felt needed it most.

Now, in no danger of anyone overhearing, he asked, "Tell me, madam, are you ready to apologize for your earlier comparison of me and my friend to your… younger sisters? I do recall telling you the slight would not go unanswered."

She took a sip of her punch and asked in return, "If I do not, you mean to punish me with your silence during our dance? Will mercies never cease?"

He fixed her a stern look, one which he struggled hard to keep on his face lest he laugh at their banter. Taking her cup to place on a nearby tray, he led her to the floor. "I did tell you to expect revenge, and I find this is the best time since you will be forced to listen to me for the whole of our set. And, madam, I do not intend to be silent, nor do I have mercy."

ON THE CARRIAGE RIDE home, Mr. Bennet sat by his favorite daughter. "My dear, will you come to my study before you are to bed?"

Elizabeth yawned and nodded. She was not looking forward to the conversation she guessed was coming. During their last set, Mr. Darcy was relentless in making her blush with extracts of sometimes scandalous but thought-provoking poetry while he did a fair job of keeping his own mien unaffected. She should curse him for it and for raising the suspicions of her father.

When she told him to seek his own happiness earlier that night in the library, she did not mean right away and certainly not with her. Now she was in the precarious position of responding to questions for which she had no answers.

Not long after they arrived home, she knocked on the study door and entered.

"Have a seat Elizabeth."

She did as she was bade keeping her silence and composure. Her father appraised her closely. "Elizabeth, I feel as though we must have this conversation again, so please accept my apologies if it is unfounded. But, I must ask whether is something in which I ought to know concerning yourself and Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth knew what her answer should be, but the gentleman made no declaration, well, no recent and serious declaration in her opinion. So, she felt free to answer in the negative.

Her short response was not satisfactory to her father. "I shall tell you that there was some talk of expectations between the two of you while I was in the card room. Are you aware of this talk?"

"Father, I am. There is no justification of such rumors other than his friend is to marry my sister. However, we have decided to be friends as we expect to be thrown much together in company in the future. We should not make ourselves miserable, and I do understand his character to not be as bad as I once thought. He actually is well read and interesting. You would like him very much, I believe, if you had the opportunity to talk with him."

"I see. And, to your argument that one engagement gives rise to expectations of another solely due to his friend marrying your sister, then why might I ask is there not expectations involving him and your other sisters?"

Elizabeth knew not to argue a point she could not win, so she settled for as close to the truth as she could find and addressed him directly. "Father, he has made it clear we are _merely_ friends. He shall marry for wealth and standing, and I harbor no tender feelings. I only wish others would not concern themselves with business that is not theirs."

"I am sorry Lizzy, I fail to understand how he made such a thing clear to you that he only expects friendship?"

Lizzy was trapped there, it would not do to tell her father about a letter written in which she was a subject. Upon reflecting, that was her only evidence that his only intention was indeed only friendship. He had kissed her, flirted with her, and held intimate conversations with her – and, those were certainly not the actions of a man without intentions. She could not decide however if they were truly honorable or if she would be inclined to accept them.

Mr. Bennet cast some mercy on his daughter as she sat before him in obvious distress. "It is no matter, dear. I must caution you, Lizzy. For all your education and liberal ideals, there is still plenty you do not know about this world. Men like Mr. Darcy think they play by another set of rules than the rest of us. And, my dear, I do not wish to see you caught up in such a life or be taken in by someone whose character we may not truly understand. I shall not like to see you hurt. Gentlemen are simply not _merely_ friends with gentlewomen; it is not the way of the world. "

Elizabeth nodded her head in understanding though she did not truly feel she had any. "Father, I truly appreciate your concern. Whether or not he has wishes or expectations, I have none. While I do think he is a better man than I originally believed and can be an engaging conversationalist, he is still unsocial and taciturn most of the time. We are never of true accord when we speak. I could never be happy with a partner with such contrary disposition to my own. So, you see, nothing to worry about, papa. My heart is still my own." Elizabeth moved over to embrace her father and then excused herself.

He would have never attributed willful misunderstanding to his daughter. She could not be more blind or oblivious. She was correct in that Mr. Darcy certainly was not social and bordered on being rude most of the time to the neighborhood, but she failed to acknowledge how he was a changed man when in her presence. And, that was all the evidence Mr. Bennet needed. He smiled, spoke often if not somewhat quietly, and his happiness was just as evident as Bingley's to the discerning eye. Yet, despite believing Mr. Darcy being sincerely taken with his Elizabeth, a father did not so easily trust another man's motives. Mr. Bennet would not sit idly by while his daughter's affections were engaged without her even realizing it. He would make a call as soon as it could be arranged on the morrow.


	20. Chapter 20

Mr. Bennet awoke much earlier than his wont after such a late night and with a heavier heart than even he had anticipated. Kissing his wife's forehead, he threw off the bedcovers. Making his way through the door to his own room to ready for the day, he turned back to look at his wife's sleeping form. She may be the silliest woman in all of Hertfordshire, excepting her sister, but she was his wife and he loved her more than life itself. He hoped the young bride and groom he would see married this morning would be as fortunate in finding love as he and his Fanny.

Mr. Bennet had brokered the union set to take place that morning between Taylor's eldest girl and the Saunders' youngest boy. It was at some inconvenience to himself, but worth it. Having an unmarried mother among the tenants would not be preferable to his sensibilities.

Thinking of brokering unions, he winced in disgust over the call he would make at Netherfield after the wedding breakfast.

He was determined to visit Mr. Darcy and demand an explanation for the young man's forward behavior toward his favorite daughter. If there was a silver lining, it was that at least the impropriety Mr. Bennet witnessed between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth was only overly flirtatious and overly familiar behavior. Though he would require satisfaction in one way or another, by demanding a courtship or that Mr. Darcy leave the area, things could be much worse. At least he had good girls who would not truly cross any major lines as to put themselves in real danger. His friend and tenant, Samuel Taylor, was not as fortunate. He was a father forced to do the unthinkable task of escorting his young daughter down the aisle of the church knowing she was ruined with a babe soon to be born.

Feelings of long-ago guilt crept up his spine as he thought of his precious Fanny being in a similar situation when they absconded for Scotland all those years ago. How did it not seem as bad at the time? Now, imagining one of his own daughters in a comparable position as his young bride mortified his pride.

Mr. Bennet took a refreshing, deep breath resolving to focus on the crop rotations planned for the next planting season. It was much easier to think on estate business than on the occasional unpleasant duties of being a father with five beautiful daughters.

"DARCY, THE WEATHER looks favorable. I do think it shall be a mild day, so our plans may proceed as planned if my Jane is in agreement."

Darcy was stirring the cream into his coffee thinking about what this day could hold for him. Nerves had already settled in, but, as usual, he was resolved no one should suspect anything of him but perfect composure. So, his response to Bingley was a quick nod, and then he opened his newspaper and pretended to read for the next half hour until it was time to depart for Longbourn.

As the gentleman settled into the carriage for the short ride just a few miles away, Darcy reached into the breast pocket of his coat and felt the small gold betrothal ring that had been retrieved from the engravers the day before. Today, he would ask for Miss Elizabeth Bennet's hand in marriage and present her the posy ring that once belonged to his mother and grandmother.

He was encouraged after the previous evening and felt she finally accepted their fate that was sealed the moment he kissed her that night not too long ago. He chose her. It was perhaps not as purposeful as he intended, for he was normally not so impulsive, but it happened, and there was no undoing it.

It was a funny thing to feel the weight of knowing the course of his life would be formally changed at some point during the day. Until today, he was only beholden to his honor. Before the sun would set once again, he would be publically engaged, and he would owe his duty to her. It was a strangely comforting and frightening feeling all at the same time.

He looked out the carriage and saw the day looked no different. How odd it was that everything should appear exactly as it always did when such a momentous occasion was but to happen at any time.

He had some ideas of what he might say during his declaration. Speaking the truth was in his nature, so some unpleasant business of her family and her new station in life must be discussed. But, he also knew he would speak the truth when telling her of his admiration. He did admire her very much. And, there was absolutely no doubt of his attraction to her person.

 _And what of love?_

His father had told him to marry a woman who was worthy of it.

Earlier in the morning, after retrieving the velvet bag holding the ring, Mr. Johnson surprised Darcy by offering unsolicited advice.

"Sir, if there was ever a time to speak the tender feelings recessed in your heart, it is when you ask the woman who will remain by your side until death, to be your wife. Trust me, do not hold back. Your father would offer you the same words. I know this because he offered them to me in another life. Sir, he would be proud if he could be here today."

Darcy nearly lost emotional control after his Theodore Johnson handed him the bag and then clasped his shoulder. Before becoming on the cusp of losing control again, he needed to outline his declaration and decide if love was something of which to speak.

Before Darcy could reach any conclusions on the matter, the gentlemen arrived at their destination. Bingley looked over with a ridiculous smile on his face; it was the smile he had worn every day since securing Miss Bennet. _Shall I always go about looking like a smitten fool after today as well?_

Shaking his head at the thought, he focused on his immediate need – getting her alone and doing so without raising suspicions. He wished to gain Elizabeth's hand without her mother's prodding or a Bennet family audience. He was a private person and wished to have this all-important conversation on his own terms.

For his own sake, he hoped the ladies were still wishing to go for a picnic, and with all fervency, he prayed the younger sisters would not accompany them. He and Bingley did not arrange a plan to gain private conversation with their respective ladies on their outing, but Darcy thought Bingley would attempt it anyhow to the benefit of both.

However, if his plans were thwarted and it came to asking her father for a private audience, he would do so, and if her family stood outside the room eavesdropping, for they seemed like the type to do such a horrid thing, he would still speak his piece. He was not only honor bound to offer for her, her reputation now required it. After retiring to his room after the ball, he knew his preference was too marked. Her standing with Hertfordshire's society was now dependent upon their engagement. Feeling the weight being responsible for her character in the view of society, he thought, _if they only knew the truth._

ONCE THE CARRIAGE WAS spotted coming up the drive, Mrs. Bennet fluttered about pinching all of her daughter's cheeks and telling them to cease their yawning, for they could be tired on another day.

Lydia stamped her foot as she sat primly on the sofa. "I do not see why we must stay home this morning. We could walk with Lizzy and Jane for a while and then go to town. We have so much to discuss with Aunt Phillips after the ball last night." Lydia looked slyly over at Lizzy as she said this. "'Tis not fair, Mama."

Mrs. Bennet took a usually hard stance with her most favored child. "Lydia, my dear, that will be enough from you. I will not have you imposing today. Mr. Bingley has specifically asked for Jane's company on a stroll and a little picnic. And, Mr. Darcy shall surely want Lizzy's company." Mrs. Bennet graced the daughter she seemed most unruly with a knowing smile. "Now, unless you wish to go find dreadful Mr. Collins and entertain him for us, you will stay put in this room and hold your tongue until after the gentlemen and your sisters have left."

Elizabeth spoke up not really wishing to remind her mother of Charlotte's engagement but feeling it important for her mother to know Mr. Collins had other plans for the day. "Mama, Mr. Collins left for Lucas Lodge this morning. He had his trunks sent as well."

Mrs. Bennet's eyes went wide, and it seemed she was about to shriek when Mrs. Hill entered the room to announce the newly arrived guests. Elizabeth was never so thankful to see Mr. Darcy's arrival. Her mother's effusions on the subject of Mr. Collins and Charlotte had already tried the last of her patience. The wailing in the carriage ride home the night before made Elizabeth wish to jump out the door before the wheels rolled to a stop.

THE FOUR ENJOYED a most lovely walk in most lovely autumn weather. The weight of a spencer was most comfortable, and its wearers were neither too warm nor too cold. Surprisingly Jane led the way. She was desperate for privacy with her betrothed after the pair was put on display the previous evening. She meant to speak to her soon-to-be husband on serious matters of their upcoming union. Although Jane's nature was calm and unassuming, she had very closely-held ideals on what her marriage should be, and she meant to ensure Bingley knew all of her requirements before they were wed. She knew without a doubt he loved her, even on such a short acquaintance, but she meant to tell him his love was not the only necessity to their marriage. She expected a full commitment as God intended. He must fully understand what it meant to leave his family and cleave to his wife.

She meant to have this discussion with Charles as soon as may be, and therefore, she suggested a nice picnic in which she could remove herself and her fiancé for a private conversation without hovering of her mother or the spying eyes of her youngest sisters.  
As for sacrificing Elizabeth to Mr. Darcy's company, Jane thought more than her own purposes may be served. It did not to take a keen observer last night at the ball to see the how the pair were on far more intimate terms than what anyone would have ever expected.

As the group finished the light repast provided by Mrs. Hill and discussed the success of Bingley's first major effort to entertain his neighbors as a gentleman, the very same sipped the last of his wine, stood, and held his hand to Jane. "Miss Bennet, may I have the pleasure of escorting you on a walk? Darcy, Miss Elizabeth?" Jane lifted her hand in acquiescence, and the others nodded their permission in response to Mr. Bingley's unasked question of approval. Mr. Darcy was privately thrilled to have the opportunity, and he again felt for the ring in his coat to ensure it was still there.

As soon as Bingley and Jane were out of hearing, Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy, "Shall we walk as well, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth had much to say to the gentleman.

"I think that would suit me well, pray let me assist you."

He stood before her extending his hand, and she was in awe of how graceful his movements were. He was such a well-built, tall man, but he had the refinement in every movement of a poised lady.

At this thought, her awe and attraction gave way to amusement. She could not help laughing at the picture of Mr. Darcy, who was the example of everything masculine, in finishing school learning to walk in a large, hooped skirt balancing books upon his head. As Mr. Darcy stood waiting to take her hand, the absurdity of her thoughts overcame her. She grabbed her side and doubled over, her bonnet tumbling off her head.

Mr. Darcy placed his hand behind his back as his features turned stormy. He was a ball of nerves, and all she could do was laugh at him.

Elizabeth was still on her side and placed her arm over her eyes as she forced herself to stop. Sometimes, she was really no better than her younger sisters when her imagination ran away with itself. She moved her arm slightly allowing one eye to peek at how Mr. Darcy withstood her most unladylike behavior. "Sir, you must forgive me, I beg it of you."

At seeing her chastised smile and the mischief still in her face that she was adorably trying to cover, his manner was completely reversed, and he was at ease. She affected him greatly. How she could put him through a range of emotions in the span of a minute was astonishing. "May I ask what you found so entertaining? Why do I always feel your humor is at my expense?"

She blushed thinking he was certainly correct this time, but she would not dare let him know it. Covering her eyes again, she said, "Sir, I do believe you have already discovered my unfortunate habit of being diverted at the most inopportune times, and therefore, cannot be shocked. But, please, I mean no offense. I shall regain control of myself if you give me but a minute."

Darcy could see she was still fighting against whatever was proving her merriment, and it was charming. Everything about her that moment was delightful and perfect - the way the sun shone down through her hair and the way her legs were nestled under the skirt that was fanned out around her in a rose colored puff of soft muslin. No, he could not take offense to her uninhibited joy. Every time she showed him this side of herself, he wished for his share of it and so sat back down next to her. "Madam, will you at least reveal your diversion, so perhaps I may have my part in your fun?"

"Oh, I think… not…"

She opened her eyes in surprise that he was now sitting next to her. Finding him gazing down at her so closely, she saw the instant his desire overcame him, and she could not move from it. It was as if he knew his virility had been called into question by the amusement of her mind, and now he was intent on proving his grace was more akin to a powerful leopard taking down its prey.

She was mesmerized as he bent over to kiss her. Elizabeth's thought of how wrong it was to be kissing Mr. Darcy on a picnic cover in such a wide open space fled her mind as he placed his bare hand under her neck to lift her closer. His gentle strength rendered her to yield to him. Her mouth immediately opened at his gentle insistence, and her hands snaked up his sturdy arms to wrap around his neck. She let herself mold into him. She could not think but only feel. Some part of her wanted his embrace if only to make up for not falling into it more deeply when she had the chance the night before.

Darcy abruptly broke their kiss and hastened to his feet. Elizabeth heard Bingley's voice in the distance and reached for her bonnet. She would not look up as she prayed they were not seen.

As her sister and Mr. Bingley approached, Elizabeth saw there was no evidence of censure upon their faces, and so released a sigh while willing her racing heart to calm. She was safe. If she and Mr. Darcy had been seen, surely Jane or Bingley, or both, would show their shock.

"Say, Darcy, walk with me a moment. Jane and I discovered something quite interesting on the path, and I'd like to get your opinion."

Darcy was trying his best to not look upon Elizabeth in order to keep his self-possession. Despite being consumed with calming his ardor, he knew Bingley's tone of speech well enough to hear the small edge to his voice. Looking at the sisters, he saw they had not discerned it. As he had no wish for a discussion with Bingley on what was surely witnessed, Darcy attempted to stall his friend, "Bingley, why not just tell me about it as we walk back. We should be returning to Longbourn soon."

As the ladies were placing all the picnic items in the basket, Bingley gave Darcy a withering glare over their heads. "Please, indulge me, friend."

"Of course. Pray, excuse us a moment, ladies."

As the men walked off, Elizabeth inquired whether her sister and Mr. Bingley had a nice walk, and told it was pleasant, indeed. The gentlemen's conversation was not as amicable.

As soon as the men walked far enough for concealment behind the trees, Bingley turned a menacing face to his friend. "Shall I congratulate you now? Tell me you were not kissing Jane's sister without an understanding."

Ashamed, Darcy walked away. Though he fairly deserved it, he would not tolerate being berated by his friend.

Yes, he should not have given into temptation, but there she was laying upon the ground with her sweet smile and the sun streaming through her hair.

"Fitzwilliam, I demand an answer."

Darcy spun around and marched over to his friend using his imposing height to tower over Bingley. "You are not her father but my friend. My best friend. Do you think I am truly dishonorable?"

Bingley's posture fell. "Forgive me, but walking out of the woods with Jane, who out of respect I have not even attempted the liberty of a kiss, I see you and Miss Elizabeth… well…" Bingley's face was now crimson.

"Did her sister also witness it?"

"I do not think so. I distracted Jane as soon as I realized…"

"You know I have intended to ask for Miss Elizabeth's hand. I actually planned to do so while you escorted Miss Bennet on a walk. I did not anticipate you returning so quickly."

"Indeed, Darce, you did not. My apologies for interrupting. Although I cannot approve of your method, I admit to being jealous of your mettle." Bingley's anger was quickly disappearing as he began to understand that perhaps Darcy was in the middle of a proposal (which was not exactly the truth of the matter), and he could not help himself from smirking at the thought of thwarting Darcy's most indecent method of gaining a lady's hand.

"As we return to Longbourn, please allow me the privacy to speak to Miss Elizabeth."

Bingley's smile this time was genuine. "I daresay you will find a favorable reply if my eyes did not deceive me."

Darcy rolled his eyes. "I do hope you are correct."

"I will escort Jane far enough ahead for you to have a conversation with your lady. I wish you success, but by god, man, do not take so much time and be careful with your actions. If someone would have come upon the two of you earlier, Elizabeth would have been ruined." Darcy looked away, and Bingley saw his friend was contrite, so he was gracious and offered encouragement. "Fitzwilliam, speak from your heart and try to not be intimidating or pompous as is your usual wont. It would be foolishness on her part not to accept you, but be gentle. And, by all that is holy, refrain from kissing my future sister until you have gained her acceptance."

Darcy shook his head. This was the second time he heard similar advice today to be gentle and open. Was his manner truly so offensive and reserved?

Bigley clasped him on the shoulder and led the way back to the ladies.

ELIZABETH TOOK DARCY'S ARM in silence. When Jane and Mr. Bingley were far enough ahead, Elizabeth lifted her chin and asked what was so interesting that Mr. Bingley thought to show him immediately.

Darcy did not want to be untruthful, but he could not imagine telling her how Bingley witnessed their affectionate interlude. He uttered something about a clearing that showed some fields in the distance which hopefully could be added to Netherfield's holdings.

Elizabeth knew that to be an impossibility as all the land around was either her father's or already included in the Netherfield estate. A streak of fear raced through her that perhaps Bingley has seen them. What would that mean for her? Could Bingley remain silent? Would he mention it to her father?

She shuddered at the thought of anyone finding out about her indiscretions with Mr. Darcy. What a fool she was for indulging in his kiss, and why was she tempted over and over, never learning from it?

Granted, he produced the most exciting feelings which made her ever so susceptible to him. He was a beautiful specimen of a man, the likes of something she had never seen. He was well-dressed, smelled so, well, manly, and most importantly, he was knowledgeable and witty, and sometimes, even kind. Of course, she should be attracted to someone who could match her intelligent conversation and… make her want to kiss him with such abandon. He was a new and exciting experience which answered the longings of her adventurous spirit.

Mr. Darcy realized he must say something, but could not form one coherent thought that did not sound out of place. Looking to the pair up the lane, he finally said, "They make a nice couple." Promptly, he wanted to kick himself for something so inane. Had not he exhausted the topic the night before?

Elizabeth could sense he was still awkward after their near discovery, so she indulged him on the easy subject. It was a matter near to her own heart after all. "They are perfect together. There cannot be two people any happier."

Darcy stayed Elizabeth on the lane. "Do you not see yourself having their kind of happiness? Was it not _you_ who so rightly told me to seek my own last night? What of yourself?"

Elizabeth gave a shake of her head. "Until I have Jane's goodness-"

He curtailed her speech, "You are just as good, Elizabeth. I have no doubt. But, if _you_ were to marry, would _you_ not be as happy then?"

Elizabeth eyed him with some skepticism. "Sir, I could not be induced in taking marriage vows until _after_ I was completely _assured_ of my future felicity. Marriage is too much of a commitment to leave to chance or rush into without absolute faith in a partner's character and _suitability_." Thinking to his discarded letter still in her possession, she added, "You must agree, Mr. Darcy. Otherwise, surely you would have met your family's expectations of taking a wife by now. Do recall, I am aware of your age and can guess how long you have been on the marriage mart. You must agree with me that finding an _appropriate_ marriage partner is not at all as easy as my sister and Mr. Bingley make it out to be."

"Do you doubt you shall marry? Is there not a man of your acquaintance who shall make you as happy?" Mr. Darcy's nervousness returned in full force at their conversation. Was this not the woman who had just wrapped her arms around his neck? He patted the betrothal ring once again for reassurance at his course.

"Mr. Darcy, I am a strange composition of practicality and fanciful dreams. I am determined to only marry for the deepest love – not security, not wealth, not for position… and, forgive me, but not for only attraction in just the physical sense." Elizabeth turned away at her words, not in shame but in awkwardness for speaking so plainly of such things to the man whom she had shared intimacies with. If she could only summon her shame, then perhaps she would not be so tempted.

She started to walk on again and continued, "So, you see, my requirements lessen my chance at marriage. Further, my practical side forces me to see sense, and I _know_ you cannot deny the same sense either, sir. I am the daughter of a gentleman farmer of no great wealth. My habits are not those of an accomplished lady that men of great standing seek in a wife. I prefer nature to town, reading to sewing, walking to practicing the pianoforte, pouring over estate ledgers to pouring tea in a drawing room, and the independence my father has allowed to the dependence required by a husband. In order to marry, I would have to find not only a gentleman I could love above all others - including myself – and I am a selfish creature, but I would have to find one to love me enough to not want to change my impudent ways." The last part was said in a heartbreaking quietness leading the listener to believe the speaker had no hope of finding such a person.

Darcy could not believe she was refusing him without him even asking. But, at her last statement, he found a glimmer of hope. He would not wish to change her. She may have to learn some new manners to navigate his social circle, but he would refuse to require she become someone she was not.

Jane and Bingley were out of sight now, and there was still a half-hour before they would reach Longbourn. Seeing the current direction of their interview, Darcy thought he very well may need more time to do a thorough job of convincing her.

If she was so against marriage as she seemed, there was always the coup de grâce of Bingley bearing witness to her compromise. But, he did not wish her to come to him as such. It would not make a good beginning.

They were each silent several minutes lost to their own thoughts.

Mr. Darcy was an excellent tactician in his business dealings and excelled against most any opponent in sport. His method was tested and effective - expose a weakness and then, in the case of business, find a solution, or in the case of sport, wear down the weakness until victory was obtained.

Darcy did not think Elizabeth had any true weaknesses, but surely she had a weakness for him in some small way. She always responded to any verbal challenge, and she certainly responded physically to him. Judging again the distance to Longbourn, he realized there was not much more time to execute a plan and gain her hand. If he did not arrive at Longbourn with her acceptance, he knew Bingley would force the issue some way. Though his own honor did not need to be compelled as it had been engaged weeks prior, he refused to see her pressed.

Elizabeth could not stand to discuss the topic of marriage any further. The guilt she felt at doing so was tremendous. She finally understood his attraction went a degree deeper than hers. And, although she knew he did not love her, for he did not know her well enough to do so, she did not wish to hurt him if he was becoming attached to her. _Could he be so attached as to be serious in his designs?_ She knew his requirements for a wife were vastly different than hers for a husband. And, he was so changeable. While she loved a complex character to study, she was not sure she could be married to one. They both shared a passionate disposition, and that is not what she needed. Her father and Jane had provided her the foil of an even temper. She expected she needed the same in a husband. She also refused to have a marriage of convenience – either practical or physical. She wanted deep, desperate abiding love that would encompass every aspect of her life.

Dwelling on her dreams was just as wretched as dwelling on the confusing man next to her. She must, absolutely must put an end to the madness that was named Mr. Darcy. It was in the best interests of both parties to come to an understanding of only friendship before their actions could cause pain to themselves or anyone else.

Before she could pluck up her courage to speak openly over the perils of their earlier behavior, he grabbed her hand and pulled her off the lane and toward a trail through the woods.

She looked up to him in confusion, down at their hands, and then back up at him questioningly. Despite the superficial censure she was trying to affect, he looked deeper and saw she most definitely was not immune to him despite the bravado of her earlier speech essentially taking away his hope for marriage. The time for indecisiveness was over. He would not walk her back to her home without gaining her acceptance.

"Sir, this is not the way back to Longbourn. It is a direct trail to Netherfield."

"You claim you prefer nature. Let us take a route showing the best nature has to offer us at the present. I have been this way several times, and some of the prospects are enchanting. We will turn back after we come to an agreement on some very important points."

She did not give a response, and despite her better judgement, she continued walking with him, her hand in his.

"Do you read French, Elizabeth?"

She quirked her head up to him. "Pas aussi bien que j'ai lu le latin, mais assez bien." ** _*_**

Darcy could not help but smile. At her response, he should have realized just how hopelessly lost he was. "Of course. Have you read _One Thousand and One Nights_?"

"Oui, Monsieur. Are you scandalized by my admitting to such?"

"Not at all. But, mademoiselle, you said earlier you are not accomplished? I must wholeheartedly disagree based on what you have admitted."

"Mr. Darcy, I did not say I was not accomplished. I said my habits were not those of an accomplished lady... proved true by my taste in literature."

"Ah, well, I must still disagree. Your taste speaks well of your mind."

So, Mr. Darcy, I assume you wish to speak of Galland's translation?"

"I do."

Elizabeth walked next to him with only the sound of a few birds overhead calling to each other. She could stand it no longer. "Mr. Darcy, your silence at times, sir, is quite provoking. Let us have this conversation so it may soon be at an end. I am sure my sister and Mr. Bingley are almost arrived home. Our tardiness is doing me no favors. I will have to tell my mother we were lost or you will have to feign a twisted ankle, and god save me if my father is home to enquire why I am not chaperoning my sister."

"My apologies. I mean to ask… please humor me for a moment… if you were to have a lamp and a _jinni_ who could grant you whatever wish you desired, what would it be, Miss Elizabeth?"

She disengaged from his arm, walked ahead, and then turned around to stop before him. Why was he interested in her wishes? Did he not care about anything she just said?

"Madam, your silence can be provoking as well. I only prefer your silence…" Darcy took a deep breath and resolved to finish his statement. She seemed to respond best to his boldness, she enjoyed being provoked just as he did. _If this is what it takes to make this stubborn woman my wife, then so be it_. "I only prefer your silence, madam, when your mouth is engaged in such a way there are no words."

Her shock was evident on her face, and the blush that overspread her cheeks was the confirmation he needed that she was as overcome with feeling as he. "You… Mr. Darcy… you are outrageous! Fine, I shall answer your question. Please give me a moment."  
"No, no moment. Elizabeth, answer the question. In this very instant, what would you wish for?"

He was stalking toward her now, and she started to move back, right into a tree. He was a tall man and the look on his striking face told her he demanded a response. She searched her mind for something she could say to diffuse the situation. "Travel, sir, I would wish to travel and see more of this world."

He came right up to her, and his fierce demeanor immediately melted into something soft, gentle even. He deliberately pulled his gloves off, dropping them on the ground, and reached up to trace along her face. "Done. It is easily arranged, madam. Anywhere you wish, anytime you wish it, you shall go. Now, what else? What else do you desire?"

She closed her eyes and indulged in the touch of his fingers upon her cheek and then her lips. She exhaled her answer, "No, sir, you next."

He moved his hands to her waist and then wrapped them around her back as he leaned them against the tree. He kissed her lips first and then traced his mouth up her cheek to her ear. " _On ne peut désirer ce qu'on ne connaît pas_." _ ******_ He kissed his way to her other ear. "Oh, how I wish to know it with you."

At his words, they knew they both violently wanted something in which neither of them had any real knowledge.

She gave herself over to the emotions of it all and took what she desired. Her earlier thoughts on marriage were forgotten, and her greatest need in that moment was the man holding her, his kiss, and his touch.

They stayed embraced against the tree for how long neither knew. So consumed with each other, neither heard the sound of hooves beating slowly over the path.

This time, it was Elizabeth who first noticed they were no longer alone. However, it was much too late to pull apart from the man who currently had one hand under her spencer, another under the pins in her hair, and his mouth firmly attached to her neck.

Elizabeth could see, from the corner of her eye, the white fur on the horse's front legs turn to brown half-way up. She knew the horse, and she could not bring herself to look at the man saddled upon it. All she could do was bury her head into her lover's coat and stare at her bonnet as it lay on the ground at her feet next to two pairs of gloves.

Darcy felt Elizabeth stiffen in his embrace and suck in a breath she did not let out. His first thought was he had gone too far. For god's sake, how did his hand come to rest there? Then he finally heard the crunch of leaves. He went as still as she already was and closed his eyes in shame praying it was only Bingley come to look for them.

He slowly turned his head to meet his fate. Upon doing so, he wrapped his hand protectively around the head full of silky curls that smelled so enticing just a moment ago and pulled Elizabeth closer into his chest. She did not need to see the disappointment and heartbreak in the face of the man atop his horse, nor did she need to see the murderous rage that was now directed at him.

Mr. Bennet's hand forestalled Darcy's attempt to speak. Her father turned 'Boots', the horse Elizabeth affectionately named as a younger girl, and the pair were off at a gallop.

Darcy cursed himself for doing this to Elizabeth. He was no gentleman. It did not matter if he lived his life up to that point as such, either. He was a reprobate of the worst kind. It no longer mattered that he was as innocent as Elizabeth in the ways of the flesh or how he maintained high principals in all of his business dealings and relationships. It was not important that until he arrived in Hertfordshire, he had always put the concerns of his family's holdings and all under his care before his own. At that moment, all that was true was that he was a man who finally allowed the most natural inclination in the world to take hold. He put not only his own future at risk but the future of the woman he had hoped to make his wife. If only he could go back to the night he first kissed her and be stronger than the temptation. If he would have never known what it was like to have her in his arms, he could have let her go. He knew it to be so.

But, it was not so. She was still in his arms, and she was crying. He held on tighter; it was for his own comfort as well as hers. Somewhere among her quiet tears and over the rage in his head for himself, he was sure he heard her whisper, "' _Tis one thing to be tempted, Sir, another thing to fall_." ** _***_**

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 ***** Her response translated "Not as well as I read Latin, but quite well." Our Lizzy can be quite the smart-ass.  
 ****** This is from the play Zaire by Voltaire. The translation is "One cannot desire what one does not know." I'll leave it to the reader for interpretation on what Darcy means by it.  
 ******* This is from Measure for Measure by Shakespeare. In my mind, it is this is a major theme of my story.

* * *

 **A/N:** Whether you love me as much as Darcy is about to realize he loves Elizabeth, or whether you hate me as much as Darcy hates himself, please let me know. My only preference is that you tell me! Thanks for reading.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** FYI – I do not have a beta reader. For the next two chapters, I did two passes at proofreading. But, I did not have them read back from my Ipad as I have been doing with the last couple chapters. I usually catch more stuff when I do that, so, forgive my errors. Thanks for your continued interest!

* * *

ELIZABETH WILLED HER tears to cease and demanded her mind to clear.

Shame. It descended upon her swiftly. Why was she still in this man's arms? She pulled away and forced herself to meet his eyes, but he would not look at her.

"Sir?"

He looked up but turned his back to her which brought forth her anger. All of her emotions and there were a wide range, were all stirred, ready to be released. She may now be a ruined woman, but he was equally to blame. She would not allow him to hide the same shame she fiercely felt.

"Mr. Darcy, I demand you turn around."

The hand that he was running through his hair dropped to his side. He slowly turned around and finally lifted his gaze.

It was remorse which instantly replaced her anger. She saw his acute agony.

"Sir… I am so very sorry."

"Madam, you are not to share the blame for my ungentlemanly behavior." His words were a bellow and she was shocked by the demand in his voice.

She looked up to the heavens and willed herself to cry no more. It was a beautiful, clear day, perhaps the last one before the winter set in for the season. And, aside from the torment in their little part of the woods, the world around them seemed at peace. _Excepting Longbourn, there can be no peace there._ Her eyes closed slowly at the thought of her father's wrath which was sure to come.

Elizabeth knew she could not stay hidden in the trees with Mr. Darcy in and attempt to escape fate. It was not her nature to avoid consequences, especially, despite Mr. Darcy's insistence, the consequences were deserved for her own foolish actions.

She felt she could stand in one place no longer. She must go to her father, and she felt a need to be away from the man standing before her. He seemed to be warring with his own torment. "I must return home. Sir, I would ask that you return to Netherfield."

He walked over to her and grabbed her hand. She almost snatched it away, but the torture was still there in his countenance, and it was now in his voice. "You know, you must know that I cannot do that. I will accompany you to your father. It is I who must answer to him."

 _No, no, no_. She did all she could to keep from screaming how she wished to deal with her father alone. Mr. Darcy going to her father would only mean one thing, and she was not ready to see all of her dreams crumble down just yet.

She looked through the watery curtain of her lashes and asked, "Sir, do you love me?"

Elizabeth felt the grip on her hand tighten. She knew the answer, but before she could face her father, she had to hear him own it. She must know where she stood in this man's affections if she was to accept what her father would surely demand.

"Elizabeth… you must know I greatly admire you, and despite my actions, how much I respect you-"

She withdrew her hand, interrupted his speech, and felt a neutral calm finally take hold of the conflicting emotions in her breast. "I thank you, sir. I am ready to go home." She did not want to hear any further substitutions for what she most wanted in a marriage. Respect and admiration were essential, but neither meant nothing to her in that moment without the hope of love.

Before she could turn back on the path, Darcy took back up her hand. "Madam, and you, do you love me?"

He should have known it was a foolish thing to ask.

She would have him know where he stood as well. He was honest with her, and thus he deserved the same. "No, Mr. Darcy… I do not."

They were the words most calculated to reveal the truth of his feelings, and it was at that moment he realized the capacity of his own heart.

He felt as if his horse had kicked him in the stomach. It was all he could do not to cry out from the pain. He was never one to complain about the burdens of loss he faced in his life, but in this moment, he wanted to curse the heavens for dealing the most distressing blow she inflicted with her words.

There was nothing for it. If he had the freedom to walk away from her, he would. How was he to marry the woman he now realized he had so blindly been in love with when she did not feel the same? She did not even offer the same consolations he had of respect and admiration.

It was a cruel reward but one he justly deserved for letting his heart be carried away. What was left of his pride kept him from kneeling at her feet and asking if there was any chance at all.

Elizabeth saw a hard reserve overtake his entire person. He looked every inch the man she met the first night of their acquaintance. His voice was laced with cold formality, "Miss Elizabeth, I shall see you home. Come."

They walked quickly in silence. He did not offer his arm, and though they were side by side, each felt miles apart from the other.

They arrived at the picturesque hill overlooking Longbourn's manor house much too soon for either's liking. The wind had whipped up the leaves which were now swirling around them. Elizabeth clutched the bonnet in her hand and defied the feeling in the pit of her stomach which told her this view may very well soon be only a fond memory.

Elizabeth turned to the now cold version of the man who had earlier kissed her with such passion. She held her head up high and kept her address level. "Mr. Darcy, if you walk in that house, it is doubtless my father will grant you reprieve. But, I do, here and now. I ask you to take it. Do not marry where you do not love, for your sake, sir. I shall deal with my father. I promise he will make no demands of you after I impress upon him the unsuitability of a union between us. Please, take my offer, and leave."

Darcy did not turn towards her; he could not bear to look upon her. Her words were like a knife which never dulled, and though painful at every stab, he was continually amazed. She was not a woman vying to be Mistress of Pemberley, clawing to attain all the status a life as his wife could afford. What other woman would have the strength to release him after such a scene earlier in the wood, and what woman would have the kindness to put his need for love above her own for protection?

Although he had never felt as weak in his life as he now did in her presence, her example gave him resolve. She was telling him, as she had told him before, to go seek his own heart's desire. He would do so at once. Once married, they would find their way to happiness. He would love her, and elevate her to the position in this world she was meant for.

His love was still too infantile and selfish to let her go, and despite his earlier actions, he was ever the gentleman to his core. He would face his future with her by his side.

He offered her a deep bow. "Madam, thank you, I must decline your offer."

He silently held his arm to her. She took it with the same formality it was offered, and together, repairing into their earlier silence, they walked the rest of the way to the house.

Upon entering, they were not greeted by the standard noise normally produced by a house full woman. It was rather ominous silence. Before Elizabeth could decide between fleeing to her room and escorting Mr. Darcy to her father's study, Mrs. Hill came to greet them both. Elizabeth's heart dropped further into her stomach at the grim line writ upon the housekeeper's usually pleasant face.

"Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet has asked me to relay that he will see you in your chamber shortly. Sir, may I show you to my master's study? He has requested your presence upon your arrival."

Elizabeth saw the barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment from Mr. Darcy and gave a similar one of her own. She resisted every feeling of needing to break out in a run toward the stairs as she gracefully gave a slight curtsey and walked to her room with the same dignity a French aristocrat marched to the scaffold.

HILL LEFT THE GENTLEMAN to knock on Mr. Bennet's door. Without Elizabeth's to draw from, he felt his courage slipping. She had no idea of the strength she provided him. For all the momentous actions he required of him in his life thus far, bringing his hand to knock on her father's door seemed the most difficult. Reminding himself he was a Darcy, and therefore, no coward, he willed himself to raise his hand. Once granted permission, he opened the door to accept censure and plead for his fate if needed.

Mr. Bennet was standing at his desk with his back to the room.

Waiting for a full minute of agonizing silence to pass and without turning around, Mr. Bennet finally spoke. "Please retrieve the case atop the bookshelf next to the window. It has an ivory handle."

Darcy sucked in a breath not needing to guess what may be in the case. Almost with an arrogant courage, he dug from someplace deep inside, he went to the shelf. The dusty case was easily spotted. Darcy retrieved it and laid it on the desk without a word wondering about the last time the items within saw any use.

"Mr. Darcy, if you tell me what I witnessed was anything other than the result of you gaining my daughter's acceptance of your proposal, then I shall only need one of the pistols in that case. Do you understand?"

The anger in Mr. Bennet's words penetrated Darcy's sense of honor. He felt the guilt of every liberty he had ever taken with this man's daughter. He knew there was no wise response to what Mr. Bennet was asking.

Darcy, maintaining an air of stoic acceptance, reached out and pushed the case closer across the desk toward Mr. Bennet's back. "I am at your disposal, sir, and I make no complaint."

This action finally stirred Mr. Bennet to turn around and acknowledge the young man standing before his desk. The lack of apology further raised Mr. Bennet's disgust and he fully lost his temper.

"You are just as prideful as my daughter had originally assumed. Have you nothing to say for yourself? You deserve to be shot through here and now. What kind of gentleman acts the libertine with a genteel, innocent young woman? I had given you proper warning a fortnight ago in this very same room, and yet you trespassed on my generosity."

Mr. Bennet grasped the edge of his desk in rage, his knuckles had turned white. He wished nothing more than to jump over his desk and pummel the young man before him. Realizing he would be overheard, he strove for a quieter voice.

"I give you two alternatives; the first is to stand and take the justice you deserve knowing I have no compunction in delivering it, and the second is to take yourself to Netherfield, make your excuses to your friend, and leave this area for good. I will not force Lizzy into a marriage with someone so little deserving of her."

Darcy had stood in hard stillness at Mr. Bennet's speech. Underneath his strong and prideful exterior, Darcy felt he completely deserved this man's cruel treatment. However, neither of Mr. Bennet's options suited Darcy. He carefully reached into his breast pocket, pulled out the betrothal gift he had hoped to present to Elizabeth earlier in the day, and set it on the desk in front of Mr. Bennet.

"I love her. I am at your mercy."

At the young man's pronouncement, Mr. Bennet was defeated. He knew sincerity and the truth when he heard it. He stared at the younger man until he was too overcome and fell into his chair.

"Sit, Mr. Darcy. Actually, no, please retrieve a decanter." When Mr. Darcy was at the sideboard looking over the selections and not sure which to bring back to the desk, Mr. Bennet told him to just select which ever looked strongest.

Darcy poured Mr. Bennet a healthy amount of what he assumed was some kind of whiskey. It smelled strong and the color was light. As comforting as the crystal glass full of liquid looked, Darcy did not pour for himself.

Mr. Bennet drank down the contents of his glass and picked up the ring, inspecting the inscription in the light. "You just gave me reason to think you have not gained my daughter's acceptance. What is this?"

"Mr. Bennet, I had hoped to offer a proposal today, and of course come speak with you immediately afterward. It has been long overdue… I was waiting until I had more assurance from Elizabeth… Miss Elizabeth."

Mr. Bennet glared. "Well, it would appear you had all the guarantee you needed, although I do not condone your method in the least. And this ring? Surely you were not expecting to abscond to Scotland and marry her today?"

"It is not a wedding band. It is a betrothal ring. My mother and my paternal grandmother both wore it."

"And, whose words are these? The engraving looks rather recent?"

Darcy swallowed. It went sorely against the grain to open himself up. "Sir, they are my words, to your daughter."

Mr. Bennet leaned his head back on his chair and covered his eyes. It was another mannerism of Elizabeth's. "I see. And, yet, this ring is not in her possession? Did you not have ample time to settle things with my daughter on your walk back to Longbourn?"

Darcy did not provide an immediate answer. Things were most certainly not settled. She did not love him. But, she seemed to finally understand there was not another way.

"Miss Elizabeth was understandably upset, Mr. Bennet. I did not have an opportunity to present it to her properly. But, I do believe we both understand our responsibility and course. Sir, with all due respect to you and Miss Elizabeth, I ask for your permission to marry your daughter. I swear on my life she will not want for anything, and I will do everything in my power to be worthy of her."

Mr. Bennet knew he would have to provide his agreement during the course of this interview, but he was not ready to acquiesce just yet. "Mr. Darcy, you say you love her. Why did you not come to ask my permission to court her? That is surely what you have been doing the past several weeks, is it not?"

Darcy was not one used to the questioning of his behavior nor his decisions, but he knew to gain this man's approval, it would not do to give anything other than a full accounting of his relationship with Elizabeth. He only cut short the more intimate details, as Darcy thought Mr. Bennet would agree those specifics would be too much for a father to hear.

Darcy further humbled himself to offer apologies throughout his narrative, and there were many times Darcy thought Mr. Bennet would open up his pistol case and make good on his earlier threats. Fortunately, Mr. Bennet became to understand and believe Mr. Darcy was only a man wretchedly in love, and as difficult as it was, he showed the younger man the compassion he hardly deserved.

Darcy knew he was fortunate. He did not yet have a daughter, but he had a precious sister. If Darcy had been in Mr. Bennet's position, he would not have provided any considerations. He most likely would have just killed the scoundrel without question, or at the very least beat him within a breath of his life. Darcy's thoughts went to what his reaction would have been if he had actually seen Wickham compromise Georgianna. Yes, there was no question in Darcy's mind as to what he would have done.

Mr. Bennet did his best to absorb all he heard. To say he was disappointed in his daughter was only the half of it. He was also heartbroken his daughter did not trust him so much as to speak openly of her budding relationship with the young man now in his study.

He reasoned the account Mr. Darcy provided could not even be half-true if Elizabeth did not return to some degree of the man's feelings, and he felt Mr. Darcy spoke the truth in his recitation of all events. And there was the not-small matter of what Mr. Bennet witnessed earlier in the woods as he rode his horse back to Longbourn. He had just called on Netherfield with the intent to question Mr. Darcy only to find the man absent and then upon an open path passionately engaged with his beloved daughter.

As much as it hurt his heart to even think of Elizabeth giving herself over to a man, his Lizzy had been a good girl with strong moral principles these twenty years. He was not mistaken on that.

She would never be taken in by some libertine. She was an excellent judge of character. If she accepted a man's attentions in the manner she did, then she must have strong feelings and deem the gentleman worthy. There was no other way to think about it.

"Mr. Darcy, you say you and my daughter discussed the idea of marriage upon your walk back to Longbourn?"

Darcy realized he had not actually asked Elizabeth for her hand, but their manner of speaking confirmed what must take place. She even offered him one last chance to cry off, which he would never consider. And, he was sure had he stopped their passionate kiss long enough to properly ask for her hand, she would have agreed in the moment. How could she give so much of herself physically if she did not wish to marry him?

Darcy looked to Mr. Bennet and answered what he was sure Elizabeth's answer would have been if they were not interrupted in such a way to bring them both shame of the acutest kind.

"Yes, Mr. Bennet, we came to an understanding after you left us."

"Well, Mr. Darcy, then you shall marry my daughter."

Darcy's relief was profound. He was almost overcome with emotion. This had been one of the most trying hours of his life. Finally, he was granted permission to marry where his heart had chosen. Mr. Bennet interrupted his silent elation.

"And, I would like Elizabeth to marry along side her sister. I have no doubt you can obtain a common license."

Darcy started forward, eyes wide. He did not anticipate such a quick marriage. That would give rise to gossip. "This is Monday next. Surely, it is not enough time for Miss Elizabeth to prepare."

Mr. Bennet weary eyes turned stern again. "Given what I witnessed today and have now heard from your very report, it is imperative you and Elizabeth marry immediately. There will be no opportunity to compromise my daughter further. Come, sir, I am sure you cannot really complain. As far as preparations, my wife is capable of handling any additions to the effort she has already taken. If you refer to clothing, I will provide Elizabeth funds to procure a proper wardrobe at her convenience after her wedding. And, surely you can provide me a settlement in the next few days. You are not a man without resource."

Darcy blushed. He already had the settlement in hand. He requested it drawn up when he rode off to London the day after first kissing her. It was already settled at that time in his mind they would marry. He was nothing if not prepared, and the final revision was delivered days ago. "Mr. Bennet, the settlement is at present available for your review. I will have a messenger send it as soon as I return to Netherfield."

Mr. Bennet looked at Darcy with a mixture of amusement and astonishment. "Well, I feel that is rather presumptuous of you, Mr. Darcy. But, please send it as soon as may be. When exactly did you have this did you have this drawn up?" Mr. Bennet saw Darcy's hesitation. "Never mind, I take it you did so while my daughter was still at Netherfield. I give your honor credit despite your reprehensible behavior."

Darcy gave a small nod of acknowledgement, and Mr. Bennet stood and reluctantly offered his hand. The younger gentleman stood to take it, but, he was not quite ready to leave. "Sir, is it too much to ask to speak with your daughter before I return to Netherfield?"

Mr. Bennet felt his benevolence was already exhausted. "I think not. You may call in the morning if you wish. I will inform Lizzy of her upcoming wedding."

Mr. Bennet picked up the ring which was still on the desk and handed it to Darcy. "Here, you must not leave this lest my wife think I am terribly romantic and start to expect such attentions." Darcy eyed the elder Bennet with some skepticism. He had heard with his own ears just how devoted Mr. Bennet was to his wife while accidently eavesdropping in the garden with Elizabeth. It was a scene Darcy felt compelled to leave out of his earlier narrative.

Mr. Bennet continued, "You will have plenty of time to present your gift on the morrow… and under my authority and watchful eye. Sir, do not expect to be alone with my daughter until she is your wife." Mr. Bennet bowed toward his guest and showed him out.

It was with a heavy heart Mr. Bennet walked back through his front door. He was not looking forward to informing Lizzy it would only be a matter of days before she gave up the title of 'Miss'. Nor was he looking forward to setting his house to rights after arriving home in an unusual but justified fit of anger. He ordered Mr. Bingley out of Longbourn and his daughters and wife to retreat to their chambers until he deemed it time to retrieve them.

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 **A/N:** I uploaded the next chapter as well, so click the 'next' button and keep reading! :)


	22. Chapter 22

**!READ THIS!**

 **A/N:** I just posted Ch 21 at the same time. So make double sure you have read that first before you read this!

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ELIZABETH WAS MR. BENNET'S first order of business.

He knocked and then entered without waiting for her response. What he saw caused him to have great pity. She sat in the window with her arms wrapped around her knees staring off at Mr. Darcy walking down the lane and out of sight. He did not have to see her face to see she was crying.

"Lizzy, do not be concerned for your Mr. Darcy. He refused a horse and the carriage. It must be another thing you have in common, he says he enjoys a long walk."

She did not say anything and kept her eyes turned toward the road.

"Elizabeth, he did ask to speak to you, and I would not allow it today. Do not think he left you without wishing to say goodbye. He asked me to pass along his concern for your well-being and his hope you are well. But, I can see you are not. And, in this case, as painful as it may be, I am not sorry to see you suffer a little. Suffering always brings about resolve in a strong character such as yours. And, you, my dear, may be in need of some."

At this, she turned her wretched face to her father. He decided it was best to get on with what he came to tell her.

"My dear, you will be married to Mr. Darcy this next Monday in a double wedding with your sister."

Elizabeth gasped and Mr. Bennet witnessed her shock. Before she could say anything, Mr. Bennet stalled her reply.

"Lizzy, I know it is sudden, but can you truly expect me to demand less? And, I dare say, it is obvious to me now you would have eventually married the man anyway. My discovery of your relationship only serves to hasten what would have been. You cannot be as shocked as you seem."

Mr. Bennet walked toward his daughter and put his hand on her shoulder. He was no longer furious, he was only sad. His favorite daughter had given her confidence to a man that wasn't him, for that is how he viewed her lack of honesty when he had questioned her several times about Mr. Darcy's forward behavior. And, now she was to be married and gone from his protection in a matter of days. As much as it pained him, it was the nature of things.

Elizabeth looked up at her father. As he gazed back, he finally saw her as a woman and not the little girl who loved to sit on his lap to listen to his endless stories. She was no longer the young lady who lapped up every book in his study and debated philosophy with him into the late evening. She was a woman who now would belong to another.

"Do not be so forlorn. Your old father here does recall what it was like to be swept up in love, you know. Not that I relish the fact, but I do suppose when the time came to give your heart, I knew you would give it quickly and fully to only the most worthy. You are more like your mother than you realize."

Elizabeth's bewilderment was evident. She was too confused and even offended to immediately refute his assumption.

Mr. Bennet took a seat and his daughter's hand. "Elizabeth, your Mr. Darcy, as much as I even still wish to do the man much harm, has been most honorable in giving me a detailed history of your relationship. I assume some of the, well, finer details were left out for my sake – I am no fool, but dear, I do believe he was truthful, and therefore, I will not make you repeat the account of your relationship. He risked my temper in being so forthright, and that was a point in his favor.

"I know you would not have allowed a gentleman to become so close to you had not you returned his affections. I cannot believe it, but it does hurt this old man's heart to see you transfer your allegiance and confidence. I am just sorry you felt you could not tell me.

"In a sense, I suppose I may understand. Those of us with the greatest capacity for feeling are those who have the most trouble expressing it. I cannot fault you for a folly in which I struggle with as well, although I now believe our struggles to expose our feelings pale in comparisons to the struggles your fiancée has in laying his feelings before others. I believe it took much greater strength than he probably thought he had to make his confession to me. As much as I wish otherwise, I cannot help but respect him for it."

Elizabeth was completely mortified. That Mr. Darcy would tell her father all that had occurred between the two of them was beyond words. What must her father think of her? She finally broke her silence.

"Father, please, I beg of you to forgive me. My feelings have been so confused; I did not know how to speak with you on the subject. I do not know how things became so far gone so quickly." Elizabeth let her tears and threw herself into her father's arms. "Father, I never meant to dishonor you. Please tell me I have your forgiveness."

Mr. Bennet tucked an errant curl behind her ear in the same manner he did when soothing her as a little girl. "My dear little Lizzy, you shall always have my forgiveness. Do not be so confused, little one. You always had a strong reaction to the man. Deep abiding love can be the work of an instant. I should have known the moment you were lost to me when you barged into my study the night after the assembly telling me of your strong dislike for the proud gentleman who slighted you. You have never let another rattle so you before. Let me share a bit of truth I have learned."

Elizabeth nodded her head forcing her defensive words back down. She wished to cry out against her father's claim she actually loved the man she was to now marry.

"Lizzy, when you feel so very strongly for someone, it is easy to blur the lines between dislike and like, love and hate. Do not feel confused or ashamed for loving someone you once claimed to dislike. It will be a lovely story to tell your children one day, do you not think?"

Elizabeth had enough her father's assumptions. Knowing there was now no way to correct him lest she make her situation worse and garner her father's pity, she pulled away determined to stay silent. She would have words with her future husband at some point. Closing her eyes, she let that sink in. _Husband. I shall have a husband_.

"Lizzy?"

"Father, thank you for coming to me. Your kindness is more than I deserve. Does mother know yet?"

"No, I will go to her and spare you her reaction. I am afraid I was rather harsh to everyone when I arrived home earlier. I have sent them all to their rooms and Mr. Bingley away. I suppose we will both need to explain. I will not share the details of what I witnessed today beyond giving the barest of accounts to your mother, and then only after I threaten her with the most dire consequences should she chooses to gossip. Although, I do not think she would anyhow. You see, your mother became my wife under a touch of scandal, and I do think she loves you enough to spare you that fate." Mr. Bennet gave a sardonic little smirk at that. "Will you be ready to do that by supper?"

"Yes, Papa, that is most reasonable. Thank you again for your kindness." Elizabeth did not press her father as she already knew the details of the scandal to which he referred. He would most likely be appalled that she already knew more than he probably intended to share.

Mr. Bennet bent down to kiss her head.

"Dry your tears, poppet. As distressing as this all has been, I do take great comfort that you will have a marriage founded on mutual love. When the passions of youth fade, you will have your memories to draw upon and restore your love. It has served me and your mother well in hindsight. It shall for you and your Mr. Darcy as well. Although the man has proved himself somewhat of a rogue, he no worse than any other man hopelessly in love; he has proved his worth today. His love for you is great Elizabeth, and I could not have parted with you for less."

Mr. Bennet closed the door as he left, and Elizabeth was now free to let out her frustrations. She went to her bed, picked up her pillow and threw it with all her might onto the bed. How had Mr. Darcy convinced her father he was not only an honorable man but that there was love between the two of them? Did they both not declare their feelings on the subject just earlier that day? He had not said it as plainly as she had, but they both agreed there was no love between the two of them. At a complete loss for understanding, she threw her pillow once more against the bed for good measure.

Did it matter what their feelings were at this point? She could in no way go confess to her father that she, in fact, held no love for the man she was to marry. How could she tell her father she allowed liberties with a man she did not intend to marry? It seemed he had forgiven her on the excuse of passion and love.

Perhaps Mr. Darcy knowing as well as she did the story of her parents' relationship, he added the ingredient of love into the story of their recent history as a means to soften her father's judgement. It was certainly clever but seemed below his character. Either way, it went sorely against the grain that not only should her father know all of her sordid history with Mr. Darcy, but that her father should be misled into believing they were nothing but a pair of young lovers overcome with their feelings. _What a trifling excuse_. If she were expected to play along, she would have to understand at some point just what Mr. Darcy said to her father.

She looked around her bed chamber, the sacred place where she usually found solace, and let the feeling of loss wash over her. How was she to leave this place?

THE NEXT DAY STARTED grey and gloomy. The sun refused to shine, and there were no songs lingering outside her window. The birds must be moving on with the upcoming winter, and she realized, she must move on as well.

She retrieved her most comfortable morning gown not caring a whit it was two seasons out of date and that the hem was stained with a permanent light brownish color in more than one place. She waived the maid off and pinned her own hair. Who had she to impress? She was now an engaged woman, and even if she looked like the rag doll she was currently making for a tenant's daughter, there was nothing to be done for her fate. She would be marrying Mr. Darcy in five days, elegantly dressed or not. She preferred comfort if she were to go on as if all would be well.

"Elizabeth Bennet! I demand you march back up those stairs and make yourself presentable. Mr. Darcy does not want to see his betrothed in such a drab dress with her hair such a mess."

Elizabeth ignored her mother and took her place at the breakfast table.

"Mrs. Bennet, your daughter looks just fine the way she is. Surely, Mr. Darcy will find her as lovely as I do." Elizabeth smiled weakly at her father, and he did his best to smile back, hiding his confusion at her still sullen appearance.

He understood she must be mortified at the event of yesterday, but she seemed positively ill. He could not be wrong about her feelings. Yes, his insistence they marry immediately was probably a shock, but surely she must be happy to be marrying a man she feels so strongly about? Based on her own actions, there was no doubt in Mr. Bennet's mind as to Lizzy's feelings. He gathered she was sad to leave her family. Mr. Bennet understood Mr. Darcy's primary residence to be in Derbyshire and quite the distance away.

Any other thoughts and conversation were halted when Hill entered to announce the gentlemen. Jane reached out to give Elizabeth's hand a squeeze of comfort. Jane did not know all the details as Elizabeth was not so forthcoming, but she knew enough to know there was something very peculiar about her sister's engagement.

Darcy looked as imposing as ever, and Mr. Bingley was his usual jovial self. It was as yesterday had not happened at all for the gentlemen. Elizabeth turned back to her plate not knowing where else to look.

Mr. Bennet invited the gentlemen to sit and calmed Mrs. Bennet's effusive congratulations toward her newest soon-to-be son in law. Darcy was as gracious to his hostess as his frosty exterior allowed and then chose a seat next to his betrothed. When he spoke, his voice was much softer than she expected after the way they left each other the day prior. "Miss Elizabeth, how are you today?"

She looked up to him, and despite her words that she was well, he knew she was not. She had dark circles under eyes that did not hold their usual smile. He grabbed the hand that rested in her lap and gave it a squeeze. "I would like to speak to you after you are finished, with your father's permission, of course."

After breakfast, Elizabeth and Darcy followed her father into his study. Mr. Bennet sat as his desk pretending his best to be engrossed in some important document while the two young people took a seat together by the fire. It would not be possible for Elizabeth to ask all of her questions in front of her father, but she thought she could manage some. Before she could summon her words, Mr. Darcy grabbed her hand, opened it up and placed a token within her palm.

"For you madam. It is a gift to mark our engagement."

Elizabeth was too stunned to think to ask how he obtained such a piece of jewelry when they had not been engaged even a day. She held it up and saw there was an inscription on the inside. _All I refuse, and thee I chuse_. It was a common enough sentiment, but she thought there was no description less apt to describe her engagement.

"It belonged to my grandmother and then my mother. You will be the third Mrs. Darcy to wear it."

Elizabeth quirked up her brow at him. "And, who was the romantic?"

Darcy did not understand the question. "Pardon me?

"The inscription? Rather sentimental, is it not? Not sure it is applicable in our situation, but I digress. Was it your grandfather who originally had it engraved or was it your father?"

Darcy gave a bitter laugh. Her father had asked the same question, although Elizabeth's had more sting.

"I dare say, both my grandfather and my father were very much in love with their wives and both quite romantic from what I understood as a young man. May I?" Mr. Darcy pushed through his disappointment at Elizabeth's reception of his gift and continued with his plan of presenting it to her.

Elizabeth found that despite her incredulity at such a gift, she could not stop Mr. Darcy when he took the ring and held her hand in his. He drew up her now shaking fingers to his mouth and slowly kissed the fourth finger of her right hand before slipping the ring over it.

His words were low and his manner solemn. "My apologies for not giving this to you under better circumstances. But, Elizabeth, despite what has brought our engagement about, once I have committed to something, I do so fully. I will always do whatever is in my power to bring you joy, contentment, satisfaction, protection... You need not worry for your future with me."

Elizabeth could only mumble something completely unperceivable. She wished she could look to see if her father witnessed Mr. Darcy's intimacy, but she could not break the man's stare long enough to do so.

"Elizabeth, I am sorry to tell you this, but I must be away to London today. I have to get several matters settled before our wedding, and I must collect my family. They will wish to be present."

"Family? Who will you be bringing from London?"

"Well, my sister for one. But first, I must make sure a certain gentleman has fully departed the area. If he has not, then I am not sure if she will accompany us back here for the wedding. I cannot take any risks in that quarter. Then there are my cousins, Isabella, Richard, and Stephen, and Stephen's wife, Ruth – they will all wish to attend, if only to ensure I am actually marrying a real woman and not a figment I conjured up in my imagination."

Elizabeth was puzzled that he should same something to that effect. Why would they not believe he was actually marrying? Darcy continued not noticing her puzzlement at his self-depreciation.

"And, of course, my great Uncle Darcy will attend if he can be available on such a short notice. The courts keep him quite busy. However, my aunt and uncle will come despite what business they must rearrange – "

Elizabeth stopped him. "Aunt, which aunt?"

Darcy was slightly confused by her interruption. He did not recall discussing his family much with her. Why should she be concerned at which aunt he would bring with him? _Ah, yes, she knows about Aunt Catherine_.

He tried to allay her concern as much as her own. "Do not worry. My Aunt Catherine shall not even be notified if I can help it. Perhaps the quick timing is for the best. It will be my Aunt Ellen Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock, of whom I speak."

Elizabeth raised both brows. She was about to remind him that her cousin was still of the neighborhood, and there was no way to assume his silence. But, then she realized he had referred to his other aunt as a countess. Just how who was his family? Should not one know these things about the man she was to marry?

"Countess? Your uncle is an Earl?"

How had he not even told her any of the family that would become her own? "Yes, my Uncle is the Earl of Matlock. My cousin, Stephen is Viscount Ashdown. Several members of my extended family are tied to the peerage. My grandmother and mother were both daughters of Earls."

Elizabeth felt her shame creep back in. She had entrapped, unwittingly, someone who was probably expected to make a finer match than she even originally realized. She, herself, was far off from being the daughter of an earl. Did Mr. Darcy even realize she had hardly a dowry of which to speak?

She whispered to him. "Sir, what are you doing marrying me? I am not of your sphere. How shall I fit into your life? I do not wish to bring ridicule to myself nor to your family. Are you aware I cannot even bring a dowry of any consideration to this match?"

He did not understand her fully the motivation in her questions. Yes, they were all valid points, but he expected more courage from her. "Madam, I was not aware you felt yourself below anyone, nor did I realize your mettle wilted at the small challenge of being my wife. I promise, other than my Aunt Catherine, my family will not look down upon you for not being connected to a title."

"And what of my connections to trade? Do you really mean to tell me you expect your distinguished family to acknowledge me if I maintain my relationships to my aunts and uncles who are no more than a county attorney and an importer of goods? For I will not give them up for you just because we are married and you may expect it."

Darcy inwardly smiled. He would never expect such a thing from her, and it was absurd for her to think it. Was he not the best friend of a man whose fortune came from trade?

However, her last statement was said with some passion and defiance, two traits he found endearing, and he was glad to see them reappear. He schooled his face to not show his enjoyment and coolly said, "Well, madam, you shall be my wife and mine to command. We can address the subject after we take our vows."

She immediately rose to her feet and balled her fists. "You, sir, are very mistaken if you think I will even make it to the doors of the church if your intent is to keep me from any of my family. My father will just have to deal with a disgraced daughter, because I will not give my consent to marry a man who wishes to devoid me of the people I love. And, I will not be allowed to see the connections I cherish as wanting in any way. Did you not just proclaim to do anything in your power to bring me joy?"

He was expecting to get a rise out of her, but perhaps not such a loud one. He would remember not to risk her ire in the company of others, although he did so now for only the benefit of bringing her out of her low spirits.

Mr. Darcy grinned and grabbed the balled fist of his betrothed. "Fine, Elizabeth, you have my word I will never interfere in your relationships. Are you satisfied?"

She looked at him disbelievingly. "Sir, I remind you there is a witness in this room that heard you give your promise. If you so much as attempt to go back on it, I will remind you that as a gentlemen you are honor bound to keep it."

"Of course, but I am not a man who shall ever break a vow."

The way he squeezed her hand and looked at her made her wish to swoon there on the spot. Her concerns of yesterday evening and this morning were quickly drowning in the slow way of his words. It would not do for her to yield to him so easily if she were to protect her heart.

"Sir, if you are to London, I do not wish to detain you any longer."

Mr. Darcy was slightly disappointed she was ready to send him away. He did not mean to provoke her to the point of wishing him gone. He still had much to say; however, it was probably best to have those needed conversations in private anyhow. It was probably best for him to start his journey.

He stood and bowed over her hand. "I shall return as soon as possible, but it may not be until Saturday. May I bring anything from London you will need for the wedding."

She shook her head, and one of the curls she had pinned sloppily behind her head came loose. Mr. Darcy cursed Mr. Bennet's presence, for all he wanted to do was reach out and wrap it around his finger and kiss her goodbye. He settled for bowing again and kissing her hand.

He made his way to leave when Mr. Bennet stopped him. The father then turned to his daughter, "My dear will you leave me with your young man for just a moment, and then I will expect you walk your guest to his carriage."

Both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were shocked Mr. Bennet would grant them any sort of privacy, but Mr. Darcy was eternally thankful and remained behind to be of service after Elizabeth closed the door.

"Young man, I saw plainly what you were doing just now with my daughter. You take a great risk in baiting her like that, you know. But, I do believe she is better for it. She is always in need of a challenge, just know she has her limits. Take it from a man happily married to her mother, you do not want to find yourself on the wrong side of your wife's temper. My daughter is much the same as a young Francine Gardiner, and I spent weeks at a time during the first years of my marriage regretting using her for such sport, even when I thought it in her best interests."

Darcy willed his uneasiness not to show. He had not let Mr. Bennet's presence moderate the conversation with Elizabeth as much as he ought. "Thank you for the advice, sir." He gestured to the stack of paper on Mr. Bennet's desk. "If you are done with the settlement, do you have any changes I can make while am to London?"

"Mr. Darcy, if anything, you have been too generous, and not a little less than forthcoming to the neighborhood about your true worth." Mr. Bennet's brow challenged Darcy in amusement making the latter feel quite uncomfortable.

"Sir, I am not one to use my material wealth for the gain of one's good opinion."

"No, of course not. You are too honorable. But, Lizzy has no idea of what she is getting in becoming your wife. She cannot fathom the expectations of being mistress to all you have."

"Do you not think her capable of the task?" Darcy was offended Elizabeth's own father did not see the potential in her.

"Do not be condescending, young man. I am not suggesting my daughter is not the most capable woman I know, and I will go further to take credit for much of it. I only want to impress upon you that it is essential to ensure she will know her full situation. It is obvious based on what you have provided me that she will have a great responsibility. Be honest with her with her about it. She obviously did not even realize you had connections to the peerage. Do not let her be taken off guard again. She needs to know the expectations of being your wife."

Darcy understood. He would find a way to communicate to her more about her new life before Monday if at all possible. For now, he was eager to have a few precious moments alone. He went to the parlor and took his leave of Bingley and the Bennet women. Elizabeth rose to escort him to his carriage.

They walked silently to the door, and she reached for the latch.

He was behind her, and before she could lift the lever, he moved closer while placing his arm over her shoulder and his hand on the door. "It is much too cool for you to go out, madam. Let us speak here."

Elizabeth could feel the heat from him behind her and his breath in his her hair. She was not prepared to be alone with him again like this, not until she better understood what had changed between the afternoon before and this morning. She needed answers as to how her father thought she was caught up in some great love match.

She continued to look at the door. "Sir, I wish you a good journey." When she felt his hands on her shoulders turning her gently around, she could not suppress a shudder.

"I will miss you, Elizabeth. I am counting the days until Monday."

She wished to step back but could not. Why was he always trapping her? "Sir, I thank you, but I do not understand. You shall miss me? You give me a gift? – "

"For which, you have not thanked me."

"Sir, how can I? We both know this is a complete farce. What did you say to my father yesterday? Do you know that he practically wished me joy instead of expressing his displeasure? I cannot puzzle it out unless you told him we were having some great love affair."

Darcy did not quite catch the full meaning of the words she was saying, but he did understand they caused him some pain. Unfortunately, they did not have the luxury of time for him to fully answer her or seek clarification. Mr. Bennet's patience only extended so far.

"We obviously have much to discuss. To your father, I only spoke the truth of our actions and relationship without embellishment. As your father, he was owed such, and it is to my utter regret I waited so long to speak with him. He is a gracious man, and he loves you greatly. To me, he was more charitable than I deserved."

Darcy was not aware the anguish present in his eyes came back to haunt Elizabeth in full force.

Elizabeth had the feeling of guilt again wash over her. Mr. Darcy was clearly still distraught over what happened yesterday despite how well he hid it earlier. At least he was making an effort.

And, her father… for whatever reason, he believed her to be entering into a marriage of her own desire. She would try to match Mr. Darcy's efforts for his sake. She would not disappoint her father, and for some unknown reason, she did not wish for Mr. Darcy to leave for London with such a heavy burden. Even then, she still could not lift her head to look at the man in front of her.

Darcy, for his part and despite his own hurt, could not stand to see her troubled. He could understand the guilt at being discovered by her father, for he held the same guilt, but he could not quite understand her not having the courage of overcoming it. It was her decision as well as his to engage in the embrace they shared in the woods yesterday. No, it was not the way anyone wished to start a marriage, but that was now their lot.

He lifted her chin. "Please, Elizabeth, do not be so sad. I cannot leave you knowing your grief is my cause. I will truly miss you. Please, do me the honor of believing me. I know this is a difficult time, but I will make it up to you. I promise to."

Elizabeth shook her head in acceptance of all he said and did her best to lift his spirits in return. "Be safe in your travels, sir. It will not do for me to arrive at the church on Monday without a bridegroom. For I will never find someone to take me if you do not."

At the twinkle in her eye, he felt safe enough to embrace her and felt something like assurance when she wrapped her hands behind his back. "Madam, if all goes well, I shall return in two days' time. I will send word either way. Perhaps you can meet my family before the wedding. I am sure your mother would love to have a feather in her cap of hosting an Earl, what say you?"

Elizabeth laughed outright at this. "Sir, I am not sure if I should chastise you for your jest at my mother's expense or be pleased you seem to know her so well."

Darcy pulled back and locked his dark, serious eyes to her now mischievous ones. Even with her wild hair, haphazard dress, and pale features, she was insanely beautiful to him. "Madam, I command both from you. I shall always desire you to be pleased, and I will take great enjoyment at the thought of you chastising me in any way you see fit… for as long as we both shall live."

In his arms, she did not care what the truth of the situation between them was. Perhaps it would always be this way between them. If that was the case, at least there was just as much desire and appeal as pain and confusion. She closed her eyes resolving at the moment to exclude all of her other feelings and indulge in the tenderness of the light kiss he first gave to her cheek and then to her lips. She did not open her eyes again until she heard the giggles of Lydia and Kitty and the admonishment of Mary.

She quickly leaned a smile toward her fiancée's ear before removing herself from his hold. "God speed, sir. If you continue your charm, I will be forced to forget that neither of us precisely wanted this marriage." She kissed his cheek in her boldness. "Until we meet again."

Without looking at the three younger girls who had not ceased their laughing and tsking, Mr. Darcy donned his hat and was off toward London.

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 **A/N:** Thank you so very much for all of your reviews. I seriously have no proper words to communicate how much they mean to me! I promise I read everyone almost as soon as it is posted. I seriously live for getting an email notification from you all. Even a simple "thanks" or pointing out an error is appreciated!

I hope to have time this week to edit the next two or three chapters. **Hint** – your reviews will make me feel obligated and cause me to ignore more of my work and spend more time writing! :)

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 **To The Reader…** thanks for pointing out the blunder about the dance card. I was originally thinking dance cards and pencils, but doing some research shows dance cards had not quite made it to England at the time of this story. They seemed to be used in Vienna at that time though. I will probably just take that part out entirely in my edit. Also, to your other question, there will be a moment a la Hunsford, and soon. But, the air will not be exactly cleared. That will happen gradually, but when it does it will hopefully be the best chapter in the whole damn book. I've been writing and rewriting little parts of it.

Terry . gold… yes, that is one thing I was going for. When I read fiction from another time, I wonder how they held themselves back or if they really did in private. In my mind, certain things about human nature have not changed over the years.

Alexmeg… I struggle with chapters and word count, and keep revising my projections. I will tell you I am just past the half-way point. I thought this chapter and the last could be written as one, but I was wrong. I will keep writing and hopefully sort out chapter breaks and my 'wordiness' during the editing process!


	23. Chapter 23

In case you have forgotten where we were…

 **Recap** : The young lovers were caught out in their Jr. High-style necking by Mr. Bennet. He is appalled and filled up with fatherly murderous rage. Darcy realizes his love and tells Mr. B the truth of his feelings in order to avoid being sent away or shot clean through (like Mr. B would really do it, c'mon). Important point – Mr. B did indeed give Darcy a chance to walk away.

Mr. B thinks his daughter must be equally in love since she was acting a fool (read: totally normal urges of a 20-year-old woman). Despite wanting bloodshed for witnessing some young pup pawing his daughter, Mr. B has a sensitive heart and tells them they have to marry asap. He really is not excited to lose a daughter, but his tenant's girl just had a shotgun wedding. Couple that with his own scandalous elopement to a pregnant Fanny, and Mr. B just isn't willing to chance a little Darcy arriving sooner than the allotted time.

The smitten beau visits the morning after the compromise giving Elizabeth an heirloom ring which he had inscribed – of course, he didn't tell her he added his own words to the inside of the band – because he is still a blockhead. She is super confused at the speed of things but tries to act as if she is reconciled to her fate – because she is an Elizabeth who just doesn't know herself yet.

As E walks D to the door – he has to go to London and prepare his family for gaining a new member – she has no immunity to his nearness and lets him kiss her goodbye despite her conflicted feelings. Weakened by the feel of his arms around her, she really is quite charitable to him upon his departure… although I don't see how he deserves it.

Okay, now you should be able to continue reading, and for that, I thank you.

* * *

Upon the door closing, Elizabeth leaned back into the solid wood, letting her lashes drop over her cheeks. The younger sisters with their snickers and clucks of judgement had moved along, leaving Elizabeth alone in the entryway to sail the turbulent waves of emotions heaving inside. Unsteady breathing gave way to panted laughs which finally mixed with tears of confusion. How was it possible to feel bliss, shame, and crushing distress all at once?

After a few gasps, Elizabeth took control of herself and resolved to be a rational creature. Reason had always been her strength. Instead of making an appearance in the drawing room, she fetched a cloak a headed to a secluded hedge in the garden unruffled by the cold midst; she would sort out the facts and feelings of her situation if it took her the rest of the day.

She recalled Mr. Darcy sitting on the very same bench with her as they unwittingly eavesdropped on her parents' intimate discussion of Jane's engagement and their own scandalous elopement so many years ago. Feeling again the mortification of that day gave way to the remembrance of his arm draped around her offering comfort and solidarity.

Shaking the traitorous thrill as if he were still there, Elizabeth set about to catalogue all she knew about the man she was to wed in under five days' time.

He was prideful, disdainful of others – that was her first opinion of him the night she met him at the assembly. _And Handsome_. With a roll of her eyes, she thought on of his other qualities… the ones he revealed upon further acquaintance. The ones that were, perhaps, not so infuriating.

He was dutiful, intelligent, sometimes kind, and strong. She still saw traces of his haughtiness while reflecting on her observations, but there was so much more to the man. She also had to own that he also showed her a vulnerable side when they found themselves alone – and such was certainly how they found themselves in this mess.

She thought over every intimacy shared. When she looked into his eyes on the precipice of a kiss, there was something exposed which made her unable to deny herself. Was that what she had always wished for in a marriage? Passion? Most decidedly yes, but unfortunately, should not passion be born of love and not the other way around?

Sighing, she stood up to move around the garden. Thinking again of him holding her gave her an uncomfortable restlessness. So determined was she to come to a peace with her future, she noticed not the cold and damp nor the evergreens with their holly berries starting to show.

She was certain he could offer her protection in the world. Her thoughts went to the view from her aunt's sitting room where she had witnessed his brutishness towards Lieutenant Wickham. Mr. Darcy was clearly also a man of strength and temper. _Would he ever treat me in such a fashion_?

She shook her head knowing better than to even entertain the thought. He had always been tender towards her, and though he did not strictly act the part, she believed him a true gentleman.

 _Yes, most certainly a gentleman… to a fault. So much a gentleman he has refused all reason in order to uphold his duty of marrying the reckless girl he compromised._

And so went the next several days of her thoughts and feelings bobbing up and down like the diablo she played with as a child. For all her resolution to be well… resolute, she found it an impossibility with the shadow of her wedding lurking so close like a thundercloud just over the hill ready to relentlessly torment the ground with its ferocious storm.

The absence of Mr. Darcy further compounded matters. He said he hoped to return in two days' time upon taking his leave of her. And when that day arrived, she received a letter instead of the gentleman himself.

 _Elizabeth,_

 _Do I dare address you as such? Forgive my presumption if it is one indeed._

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. The man had taken the liberty of her Christian name for weeks now. Good manners were too little too late.

 _As much as I wish it were in my power otherwise, I will not return to you with enough time to spare before the wedding to allow an introduction to my family. As it is, all my best intentions concerning you tend to go awry. I hope it is a pattern which will change with marriage._

Elizabeth concluded this letter was not a promising start.

 _It seems your mother will have to settle for the honor of hosting an earl for the wedding breakfast alone and not a family dinner prior to the wedding - as perhaps you may have led her to hope based on my suggestion when we last spoke. Will you express my sincere regrets to Mrs. Bennet? If I have spoiled any of her plans with my delay, you are welcome to entice her back to good spirits with any hurried errands to London that can be provided by my service – my messenger stands waiting for any requests or commands from his future mistress or his mistress's mother. I have instructed Burk there shall be no expense spared to keep you in peace and your mother distracted with sending him to and fro. He is well rewarded, so spare your compassion for him. I believe he is looking forward to serving you prior to the rest of the staff – a distinction among his peers perhaps? I digress._

Elizabeth didn't know whether to be pleased with what seemed an attempt at humor or irritated that he thought his money and the material advantages it provided were enough recompense for the presence of himself.

 _By the time this reaches you, I should be half the distance to Kent for a matter of business it seems requires my immediate and personal attendance. I should return to my London residence on Saturday, and then my family will accompany me to Hertfordshire on Sunday – it is not an imposition to travel after church - please do not concern yourself - it cannot be helped. Charles has offered Netherfield to house my party; they will return to London after the wedding breakfast; please assure Miss Bennet her new home will not be overrun with my relations after the celebrations have concluded._

 _I am most grieved to lose the chance for a discussion of our circumstances prior to meeting in front of the vicar on Monday. I do not have the time for writing all that is required of my honor. I beg your patience and appeal to your good nature to allow the matter deferred._

 _I hold on to the hope of your last farewell that you may find it in your heart to listen sincerely when we are at last in each other's sole company._

 _In your last words to me, "until we meet again",_

 _FD_

 _P.S. The ladies of my family - My sister, Georgianna; my Aunt Ellen, Countess of Matlock, my cousin Lady Isabella, and my cousin by marriage, Lady Ruth, Viscountess Ashdown, beg for me to include a note conveying their impatience at an introduction. They also send their congratulations and a wish for our future felicity._

 _My cousins Col. Richard Fitzwilliam and Stephen, Viscount Ashdown, also send their regard, and each expresses their deepest wish to meet you on the occasion of our wedding... if only to observe that you are not merely a fabrication of my imagination. My apologies in advance, madam, for having to present these two in the near future. You, as well as anyone, know we are not blessed to choose our family._

Elizabeth let out a sigh. He would not come to her before the wedding, and he clearly did not intend to provide relief to her anxiety. And, why must he be so insulting in his attempt at humor? _Blasted man._

She had the right of it to feign ignorance when her mother asked for the date of Mr. Darcy's return, and she most certainly didn't volunteer the information of his esteemed family accompanying him. Her mother was fluttering about as it was without the possibility of hosting an earl for an impromptu engagement dinner.

While glad to avoid her mother's supposed disappointment, Elizabeth could not avoid her own. There was so much to discuss with her betrothed. She had not even the faintest idea of where they stood in their rushed relationship. Equally distressing, she had no knowledge of what her life would hold come Monday after the wedding breakfast.

Jane and Mr. Bingley were headed for Brighton and then Yorkshire before settling in at an estate in which Jane was already familiar and with a man who would care for her above all others. Her sister had been attending at Netherfield the past few days to better understand the house and learn her duties as mistress. And, how little desirable the connection was, at least Jane had the previous knowledge of Mr. Bingley's family. It must be comforting to have a betrothed who would not let her go into the future unknowing.

If all the various titles of high-born relations and offence could be ignored, Elizabeth could take comfort in the post-script of Mr. Darcy's letter. It seemed some of his family may be welcoming, or perhaps welcoming until proper introductions commenced at which time they would collectively realize just what their beloved brother, nephew, and cousin had married into.

Having no prior knowledge of his family, while bothering, was the least of her present concerns. How dare he not at least attempt to convey more information? Where were they to go after the wedding? His London home? The estate of Pemberley she had heard praised by Miss Bingley?

What about a wedding trip – was he planning an excursion like her new brother-in-law? She would so love to travel. Could they return for Christmas? This would possibly be the first festive season away from her family. She was often was annoyed at any given time with her parents and younger sisters, but they were hers. She loved them. She would miss them.

And what of her responsibilities? What would being the mistress of Pemberley and his London home require of her? What would Mr. Darcy require of her as his wife? Being blind to her future only added to the mess of dread that was lodged in the pit of her stomach since her father told her she would marry.

There was nothing for it. She went to release his waiting servant, who would soon be _her_ servant, who still stood at the door waiting for instruction. After sending the man on his way, she went back to her mother's effusions and started the impossible task of packing twenty years into two trunks which were to be set out for a destination unknown.

* * *

There was a rap at the door. "Lizzy, may I come in?"

Elizabeth stood from her window seat and opened the door. Jane entered and took her sister's hands with an affectionate squeeze. "How are you, dear?"

Jane's excitement over the double wedding was barely contained behind her easy exterior. For Elizabeth's sake, she was valiantly trying to keep her own happiness from overcoming her sister's more temperate feelings.

"Well, I suppose I am doing as well as can be expected after the torture Mama just inflicted upon us. I can at least take some hope I may very well expire from embarrassment before I must irrevocably tie myself to Mr. Darcy in the morning."

"Oh, sister, I am not sure if I should laugh at you or cry for you at such a speech. Come and let me comfort you."

As soon as they reached the bed to sit, Elizabeth flung herself into her sister's embrace. "I am not prepared, Jane. This is all too sudden. I am trying with all my heart to be strong but am miserably failing. I know not how I shall speak vows to a man I do not love."

Jane concealed her shock and rubbed consoling circles over her back. Her soothing arms were enough to abate Elizabeth's tears.

Jane knew the chance to aid her sister was diminishing by the hour. She pulled back and looked into Elizabeth's pitiful face.

"Lizzy, pray, speak to me. You have been so closely guarded since my engagement ball, nay, even before. Do you mean to say you are not in love with Mr. Darcy? How is it you are marrying a man you do not love and in just a half a day's time no less? Father would never allow this. If this is truly how you feel, then we shall go to him, together. But, first, please share this burden and let me lighten your load. Have we not always been confidants? I will not leave you tomorrow until I am assured of your happiness."

Elizabeth returned Jane's stern look with a tremulous smile. "Jane, do not be so dramatic by making such a proclamation lest I compare you to Mama or Liddy. You will marry your Mr. Bingley, be the most beautiful and happiest creature ever known to this side of Hertfordshire, and you shall trust your favorite sister to manage her own concerns. Forgive me for being such a pathetic being. Now that my fit is over, tell me, are you not looking forward to Brighton?"

"Elizabeth Rose Bennet, you are not avoiding this conversation, or I shall go to Papa myself. I have, no, we all have been led to believe you are to be married alongside me because neither of you wish to wait possibly months until his _supposed_ pressing business concerns are concluded. More importantly, everyone accepts the excuse because you both seem very much in love. Our younger sisters even witnessed Mr. Darcy kissing you before he left for Town. Can you deny it?"

Elizabeth shook her head in the negative, and Jane spoke further.

"Papa even toasted you and Mr. Darcy as a hopeless case of impetuous young lovers tonight in which he offered his blessing for everyone to hear."

"Dearest, I believe papa included you and your Mr. Bingley as the impetuous as well."

Jane willed her blush away and continued her point.

"You have never been one to deceive me or anyone, and I know there must be valid explanation for you doing so now. If you truly claim not to love him, it goes against all that I have concluded for myself. Please, ease my concern and let me attempt to help you. You can at the very least be assured of a listening and sympathetic ear. As your older sister, I demand it, Lizzy."

Elizabeth broke away from Jane with a wistful smile and stood to pace the floor while turning _his_ betrothal ring around and around on her finger. Though it was in every way a gross misrepresentation of how things really stood, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever been gifted.

She ran her thumb over the delicate filigree which surrounded a small green gem. It surely was completed by a master of his craft, so perfectly simplistic and more than anything her imagination could have conjured up on its own as a gift in better circumstances.

The two vines continuously interwoven appealed to her most heartfelt notions, but the symbolism and even more, the words inscribed on the inside of the band, called out her shame. How could she wear something so precious when the truth of the feelings of both the giver and recipient belied the inscribed sentiment? She imagined the wedding band she would don tomorrow would be more welcome than the cold metal currently wrapped around her slender finger with its mocking words.

Jane reached out with her hand to retrieve Elizabeth from her contemplations.

Elizabeth's affliction was not one Jane could share, but Jane _was_ the most sensible person she knew and her best friend in the world. She just hoped not to break her sister's tender heart by imparting the truth.

"Jane, there is no sense in talking to Father. He will not let me escape now, even if he was aware I do not go tomorrow as a bride in love. Mr. Darcy compromised me… Papa was witness… perhaps, it is more accurate to say I compromised myself. Truly, I own the greater blame over Mr. Darcy."

Jane's already large, innocent eyes defied their own limits at the blow of Elizabeth's words. A red flush overcame Jane as Elizabeth realized clarification on the definition of compromise was immediately required considering the disclosure their dear mother made concerning relations between husband and wife earlier in the evening.

"Oh, Jane! Do not run away with yourself. You cannot think me _that_ immoral! I was not compromised in _that_ way!"

"Oh, thank goodness… not that I thought _that_ of you, truly, I did not. Pray believe me."

They both spent a whole half-minute staring at the other, one in something equal parts shame and exasperation and the other in shock until Elizabeth could take no more. She moved back to the bed, threw herself down, and finally let the contemptuous, sad laughter escape. It was directed solely at herself.

Choosing the laughter in place of sobs, she exhausted herself until her emotions were spent. Coming up for breath, she finally supported her head upon her hand. "Do not worry. I believe you Jane, but now you must see my course is set, and I am only in want of more time to accustom myself to the unavoidable. I do believe part of my punishment for my sin is having the luxury of time stripped away, but I will manage in the precious hours I have left… as long as I can wash Mama's words from my head before the next evening."

Jane's normal light porcelain complexion had returned from its blush a moment too soon. "Bless Aunt Madeline for attempting to temper Mama."

"No doubt. Well, come, Jane, let us forget our cares. Let us find some diversion lest we ruin our last night together with sadness and nerves over what will take place tomorrow."

Jane's face did not express the humor Elizabeth was so valorously fighting for. "No, Lizzy, please. Let us talk out your situation with Mr. Darcy."

"If you really must hear the full tale, then I shall share it with you. But, you must prepare yourself to take me down from the ridiculous pedestal you mistakenly place me upon."

"You are my beloved sister, my dearest friend. Nothing you do can make me love you less. Do not think me capable of judging you."

"I do not deserve you, Janie. Your goodness is something I shall always aspire to."

Shifting to curl up under her shawl and lay her head in her sister's lap, Elizabeth disclosed most of the brief history between herself and Mr. Darcy while a silent Jane tucked a tendril behind her sister's ear over and over as if she were comforting a small child.

There were a few times Jane's hand stilled in what was mostly likely disbelief at her behavior, but Elizabeth's heart continually grew lighter as she spoke. Jane was correct to encourage her to share all. _How shall I manage without my Jane?_

After Jane absorbed the final words of Elizabeth's narrative, she found her voice. Continuing to stroke her sister's hair, she resolved to speak the prevailing notion in her mind and prayed she would not give offense or cause further hurt. "You are deceiving yourself, Elizabeth. The sister I know would only act in such a manner with a gentleman if her deepest and most sincere feelings were engaged."

"Jane, you misunderstand-"

"No, I do not. You are neither wanton nor dishonorable. I do understand things have befallen in such a way without the time necessary for your head to catch up with your heart, but I have every faith you will find happiness if you walk into the church tomorrow open to the possibility."

Elizabeth shook her head in vehemence. "No, Jane, he does not love me the way he should a wife. How can he? I have trapped him in a marriage he did not ask for. Do you know he has not even formally asked for my hand? Do you know he seems to be related to half the peerage? I am surely not what he has envisioned for himself, and certainly not what his family would have wished for."

"I disagree wholeheartedly. Any person sharing the same room when you both are in company would also disagree. It is rather unfortunate he has not asked for your hand, but you are to be wedded to him tomorrow nevertheless, so there must have been some understanding. I cannot see another way about it. And, you mentioned his family seems desirous to know you; surely that means something.

"All of that withstanding, he obviously loves you. Charles has even spoken of it to me. More than that, I am certain I see it when he looks at you, and so does everyone else of our mutual acquaintance."

"Jane, you are not serious. He hardly says two sentences together at one time when in the company of others."

"Perhaps you are correct in some instances, but on those occasions when you happen to be in the room, he stares at you with open admiration or instantly flocks to your side. Further, any occasion in which he can construe a semblance of private conversation with you, he seems to have much to say for your ears only. You cannot deny it or I shall be forced to provide many examples of how things seem from my position. I have watched carefully, and I am sure I am correct. If I did not have Mr. Bingley, I would be a most jealous sister longing for the type of affection Mr. Darcy bestows upon you. Look how fortunate you are and do not dwell on the unpleasant circumstances."

"Jane, you are fit for Bedlam. And, you could never become jealous - your character would not allow it. Anyhow, I shall pardon you for being greatly mistaken. You see, I speak with confidence because I directly asked Mr. Darcy of his feelings after Papa came upon us. While he confirmed he held me in some esteem, he could not say he loved me. I concede his behavior has been very forward at times, but I have never made it be more than it was. I was foolish to get caught up in what was only a flirtation between two people who were becoming comfortable as friends."

"I still hold there is a misunderstanding. How much does Papa know of your feelings? I understand why he would not accept anything less than marriage considering what you told me, but why the haste? It will be disappointing to some, but perhaps Papa and Mr. Darcy will agree to delay? If Papa knew you needed more time to come to terms and sort out your heart, why would he be not generous and grant it? I believe Mr. Darcy will understand."

"I do not believe it is possible, Jane. Mr. Darcy's family is already here. And, I am sure it was Papa's decision for us to marry so quickly."

Elizabeth buried her head in her hands. "Oh, I was so ashamed. I still am. But, Papa made it clear to me that our behavior warranted an immediate marriage. It drives me mad with confusion to think Papa truly believes there is a great affection and love between us. He said as much, and I did not have the heart to reject his claim. I only assume Mr. Darcy led Father to believe such in order to preserve what little respectability we both could manage. It turns out our Father is quite a romantic… as we so, unfortunately, have now been given a greater understanding by our mother."

Elizabeth turned her head back to her sister and winced. "Oh, Jane, I shall never, ever, forget the humiliation of what she had to say about the marriage bed. Children should never have to learn of such things about their parents! Why did she have to use her own experiences? Dear lord."

Finally, Jane's mortification and sense gave over to a little mirth, and she let a giggle escape her bright red face.

"Do you want to know what I think, Lizzy?"

"I most likely do not, but please, do not let me impede you."

"I think Mr. Darcy must have pleaded his apology to our father with only the excuse of overwhelming adoration and devotion which so quickly descended upon meeting you that he could not control the strength of his affections. I also believe it is the truth of the matter, and I look forward to you writing me very soon after your wedding to tell me I have it all correct.

'Tis not so gentlemanly on the part of Mr. Darcy to give in to temptation, and you my sweetling must take heart that you must be quite more tempting than he originally proclaimed, but I believe father must have some compassion. After all, I believe Papa found himself in a much more delicate situation with our mother. Such a history as his own must certainly spur him into making sure you are settled before history can repeat itself."

"Are you truly speaking of what I think you are?" Elizabeth groaned and this time hid under her pillow.

"Lizzy, I have seen our family bible and the dates recorded therein. You may be the intelligent one, but Father has provided enough education for me to correctly reason out he and Mama married _after_ I was well on my way to this world. Who would have thought of our parents as passionate people? It is extraordinary. If two people with such different dispositions and temperaments can find love, and I daresay keep it kindled for all these years as Mother so fully gave us reason to believe, then it gives me great hope for my own happiness.

"Come now, Lizzy. Will you give me your promise you will accept the possibility of your own felicity in marriage? If anything, for my sake? I cannot walk to my own future in the morning without yours secured. Charles has assured me of Mr. Darcy being the best of men. I trust his word. And, you must start your marriage with every hope in the man who will pledge to protect and love you."

Before Elizabeth could answer, there was a knocking at the door and the sound of a stern voice admonishing two giggling girls. Both she and Jane sent a prayer hoping the more delicate points of their conversation went undetected by innocent ears, and then three more Bennet sisters were ushered into the room for a final night together all under the same roof.

The next morning as their aunt entered to rouse Jane and Elizabeth, she was met with the sweetest vision of sisterly love settled tightly together under the bed covers like a litter of five fluffy kittens. Madeline Gardiner thought was a delightful start to what she hoped would be the loveliest of days for her two eldest nieces.

* * *

 **A/N:** I am posting a new chapter right after this one. Keep reading.

Also, I am so very sorry for my absence. I can only blame this on being a novice writer. I was very unhappy with the last chapter especially. This and the next chapter were the most difficult to write by far; they bridge the next part of the story. I really had no idea how to go about them. I have stewed over this for a long time.

Luckily, the rest of the story is very well developed, and I don't anticipate running into a wall again.

Finally, your reviews and PM's have really meant the world more than you can imagine. It was what has forced me to move on from my discontentment and continue.

I will be true to my word when I started and certainly complete this! I love the second part of the story even more than the first and can't wait to finish it.

xoxoxo


	24. Chapter 24

**!*!*I posted this at the same times as chapter 23. Go back and read if you accidentally missed it!*!*!**

* * *

A joyful Jane was handed into the carriage by a resigned but contented father. After much thought and a fair amount of port the previous evening, his heart finally gave way to the natural course of his sweet sparrows leaving the nest to take flight on their own.

He turned to the other bride of the morning wishing to assist her one last time into the carriage as a daughter solely belonging to him. He clearly saw this one did not share the obvious happiness of her sister; she appeared placid, never a word he used to describe her heretofore, and such was deeply concerning to the man who would give her way before the hour was complete.

Before his delicately dressed and now fragile little girl (who had recently blossomed into a woman seemingly overnight) could take her dear father's hand, she turned once more to the only home she had known. Her heart was already in mourning for the comfortable walls in which all her treasured youthful memories rested.

Life was to march on as were the horses to the church; her future was fixed. There was nothing for it but to accept her father's assistance into the carriage and cling to him one last time before she was to cleave unto the man waiting near the altar not even a mile down the road.

"Come, my dear one. We must be on our way, and it would not do for your pretty ensemble to become ruined by rain. Your mother would never forgive me and her nervous complaints would not cease until Monday next. Spare your father and come into the carriage where you shall be dry. Will you?"

"I have come to believe you have a special affinity for mama's nerves, much more so than you let on. Perhaps I shall stand here until it rains. Mama shall wail upon seeing me enter the church, and it shall be my final parting gift to you." Her manner tried for the archness as was her habit, but the words fell flat lacking any true humor.

"I prefer a final parting gift to be your smile. Without one, my worry will not ease, and heaven help my own nerves overtake your mother's."

She shook her head and rewarded his request as best she could. "Father, such would be a travesty, indeed."

He placed one consoling hand on her shoulder and used the other to lift her chin to look into large watery eyes. It was only a small tick of time before a drop of sadness escaped to rest upon her cheek.

He wiped the errant tear. "Elizabeth, please tell me this is only misplaced sentiment and not sadness or fear in your eyes? I was so certain you held your young man in the highest regard. It is evident how deeply he affects you. I have seen the proof, myself." Mr. Bennet closed his eyes in a little awkwardness as he had not intended to allude to the compromising behavior his daughter had displayed with Mr. Darcy. "Please, for my sake, tell me I am not wrong about this marriage."

"And, if I told you I am not sure I can go through with this?" Elizabeth wished with all of her heart her father had opened this line of conversation days prior when there may have been some small chance of extracting herself from her current path. It was now all but too late.

Mr. Bennet's brow furrowed as the weight of his concern manifested further into a frown. "You have always been the most courageous of my daughters. But, I will allow you to walk back into that house if you must, and though I will be disappointed, I will always support you and be on your side. However, Elizabeth, I believe your fate rests firmly with the man waiting for you and your vows. Be the brave girl who has risen to every challenge this life has ever thrown into her path, for your own sake and happiness. Trust me if you do not trust yourself at the moment, and then trust him. He loves you very much I believe."

A second tear fell to join the other, and Elizabeth ceded her acceptance. She could not hurt her father with a broken engagement, however short of duration, and she could not bear to disappoint him. He saw her scandalous embrace that day with Mr. Darcy, and she could not let him believe she was so unprincipled in a way to allow such liberties without at least the intention of marriage.

She was the author of her current predicament, and she would reap the life her mistakes had sown to save herself if only from being seen as a failure in her father's eyes.

She summoned up another smile and fanned her face with her gloved hands. "Father, do not be alarmed. I am just sad and overwhelmed to leave you, and leave Jane, and our home. Your most rational daughter has been reduced to an apprehensive watering pot on her wedding day. I will bear up if you promise to laugh at me for my silliness on the way to the church. It will do much to restore my spirits."

"My little Lizzie. I cannot make sport of you as I have never been more proud of you as I am this morning. Come what come may, know you will always be loved by your family and your old papa."

He kissed her head and escorted her into the carriage which then rolled on to her future.

* * *

As the doors to the church opened, the heavens finally relented to rain down the splatter of tears that his bride almost failed to conceal. The tinkling sound on the roof faded as all of his physical senses were captured by the vision gliding toward him.

Despite the grey of the day streaming in through the windows, she looked as if she walked bathed in a golden light. She had grown ethereal in the days he was away from her. The creamy silk of her dress was all elegance that sublimely fit her form, the form which perfectly curved in every place he had imagined caressing in his dreams.

However, it was her face that he could not move beyond. The apples of her cheeks were dewy with a rose coloring he imagined was brought forth from the same heightened emotion he felt – and not from the chill of the church. Her almond-shaped eyes, dark and expressive as he had never seen, clearly held unshed tears which spoke to all the joy of a future filled with promise. Her lips, fully reminiscent of the juicy plums grown in the Pemberley gardens were set in a tremulous line with just the corners turned up.

All of this was framed by the pearl-studded chestnut curls which perfectly signified everything he loved about her – they were always just a little untamed like her impertinence and spirit; the rich color was earthy and natural which suited her love of nature and lack of artifice; and their lustre reflected the gentle glimmer of her quality and fineness.

Her pure loveliness cast him into an uncontrollable stupor stripping his sensibilities until he was a man powerless and left raw to the barest human form as she finally gained the aisle and took the last step to stand before him. It was the work of that particular moment in which she was bound to his heart until death. In the fleeting moment it took for her to lift her hand to join his, he knew she would always rule as his sovereign, and though the words he would soon recite were the most meaningful he ever spoke, they would only be a formality.

For all his elevated feelings, she was completely unaware and unable to read the the light in his eyes. She prayed Mr. Darcy and all the witnesses did not see the anxious tears ready to spill from the overwrought expression in her eyes nor the forced smile from her shaky mouth.

Thusly, it was not a ceremony shared equally between a bride and bridegroom. Fortunately, her lack of comprehension had no bearing on his unwavering commitment, and despite all the hardships he would face in finding his wife's love, these moments would remain the most sacred and precious of his memories.

Much, much later, after gaining a better understanding of his wife's sentiments, their vows would mean something even greater to him. He was lucky enough to fully know his heart by the time he pledged his life to her, and the giving of himself took no effort for it was done with a generosity of spirit and openness of heart.

She, whose own heart was cloaked with uncertainty, gave her vows blindly and was unwilling to feel the power behind them. Her voice was small and quiet, barely hearing herself repeat the words that tied her future to the man in front of her for the rest of her days.

However, she spoke her part and by doing so, she unknowingly placed a great amount of faith in him. It was the most rudimentary form of trust, and after many agonizing months of hindsight, her husband would be honored she bestowed her faith most undeservingly.

Her presence and participation at the small parish in a tucked away corner of Hertfordshire was a great investment on her part which did not provide much of an immediate return. Fortunately for his wife, Fitzwilliam Darcy was not anything if not a great man of business and fairness. Upon being struck in the head with some sense a time later in their marriage, he most certainly made it his life's pursuit to return her initial shares of faith a thousand times over.

The witnesses in the pews would have much to say about the double wedding which took place on a cold, rain-soaked Monday – debates over which bride held the most beauty and fashion, guesses as to how many handkerchiefs Mrs. Bennet pulled from her reticule, and of course exclamations over the honor of welcoming an earl and his family into their small parish.

Most all of those in attendance who knew the younger bride would not be wrong to comment on the unusual and serious concern etched upon her graceful features. However, all were distracted by her and her sister's fashionable gowns, the distinguished guests, and of course, most were waylaid by the ridiculous and genuine smiles of the new Mr. and Mrs. Bingley.

And so, Elizabeth's apprehension went unnoticed by almost all, especially unnoticed by Mr. Darcy as his interpretation of her attitude was wholly the opposite of what it really was.

Of course, by virtue of never having met the lady, Darcy's family was left ignorant to the bride's distress. Their overwhelming private comments to each other later in the day would center on the pleasant shock of seeing their brother, nephew, and cousin turn his head and ever so discreetly clear something very like a drop of wetness from the corner of his eyes as his bride made her way to the chancel.

To those who knew him as only the prideful and somewhat taciturn gentleman who managed to steal away a bright jewel of the county, this was unremarkable as every proper bridegroom should be moved by the sight of his bride or at least pretend to be so no matter how unpleasant or stern his character.

However, those closest to Darcy knew that even in private and during the most highly charged of situations, there was an impenetrable layer of stoicism lurking like a fortress behind whatever may be lightly displayed on the surface.

He was not easily touched… until now.

None of his closest relations had ever observed him being overcome in such a manner and would have never thought to see his rigid exterior crumble even slightly in such a public place, even if it were his own wedding. It did much to soothe any lingering distrust of such a speedy matrimony.

His bride was immediately given approval for the rare open joy she inspired. They collectively gave into their relief that despite the swiftness and the (unknowingly uncharacteristic) reserve of the bride, Darcy's match was clearly one of deep love. They could rest easy knowing his happiness was seemingly secured by the lovely lady he had at first unknowingly written of in his letters to them since arriving in Hertfordshire.

It was only Mr. Bennet who would not have that same pleasure and confidence. Up until earlier in the morning, he was certain his daughter and this gentleman were deeply attached. He knew from the gentleman's own demeanor and speech that his now son-in-law was beyond what a besotted fool should be, and it at least provided some comfort. But, now, as he observed the trepidation in his daughter's eyes and every movement, he realized just how unequally yoked in feeling they were.

Mr. Bennet tried his best to grab hold of his anger… anger at Mr. Darcy for being blinded by his own desire, anger at himself for being blinded by his own experience, and even his favorite daughter for, well, several things. Why would she act so foolishly with her reputation and allow the man liberties if she was not committed to his future? Why could she not tell him how she really felt which would have put a stop to all this madness? He would have forgiven her.

There was nothing for it now. In the eyes of God and the whole of Meryton, Mr. Bennet was no longer the chief keeper of Elizabeth Darcy's happiness. He could no longer extend her the protection he now so wished to give her.

Later, upon realization, he may regret that while he gave Mr. Darcy a choice to walk away, he never extended the same to his daughter until too late. The next several months would see a self-proclaimed irreligious man on his knees praying to a God he hoped could hear him for the sake of his daughter.

Elizabeth spent the last three hours of her time at Longbourn with a smile adorning her face. It was not always a false one, for her heart desired to enjoy the last time she would assemble with treasured family and friends for what would likely be several months. But, there were times when the congratulations were just too much and caused her to exert a major effort to keep her happy countenance.

There was also the matter of meeting Mr. Darcy's family. They were everything considerate, and proper, and even if they did not make a point of it, they were far superior in consequence to the company gathered.

How was she to fit into such a group of people? Elizabeth felt cheated she was not given proper disclosure of just what she was marrying into… cheated from having the choice of refusal.

Handkerchiefs were finally fluttered by the ladies, final embraces were given between sisters and cousins, handshakes and winks were exchanged between gentleman, and Elizabeth found herself alone with an awkwardly sanguine Mr. Darcy in an all-too plush carriage.

* * *

The light rain pattered upon the carriage roof as their equipage gained the main road to London. Both parties had been silent, and Elizabeth thought it incumbent upon her new husband to break the stalemate, and so she concerned herself with the drab landscape outside the window and the loss of all she knew until her gloved hand was stolen from her lap.

He leaned forward and wrapped his other hand around the one he had captured from her. "Elizabeth, my bride."

He drew down his forehead to their joined hands, took a deep breath, and lifted his face to hers. "May I kiss you?"

Her fortitude and grace for the day were already exhausted despite the time being not much after one o'clock in the afternoon, and she truly did not intend her wit to be so caustic.

"As of this morning, you have all the rights of possession, but yet you _now_ decide to ask my permission?" She hastily retrieved her hand. "I do not recall you ever doing so before, sir."

Upon seeing the immediate shock of rejection on her companion's face, she finished in a quieter voice. "The irony is not lost, Mr. Darcy."

He and his heart sank deep into the upholstery.

He had been too busy with preparing for a wife and quelling his horrid Aunt Catherine during the impossibly short engagement period to dwell much on the events precipitating his marriage. Yes, the guilt, mortification, and even hurt were ever present, but for him, their marriage had been a forgone conclusion of honor for several weeks.

He recalled the pain when she proclaimed not to love him shortly after they were discovered by her father. But, the very next morning, he was mightily encouraged by her teasing and kind words of farewell that indicated she would excuse the circumstances of a forced marriage. She had even kissed him of her own inclination! He had spent the last several days basking in his own feelings and assuring himself she must have had the same realization.

He knew they required serious conversation to clear several matters, the most important of which being how much he truly did love her. But, her words chastised him duly and diminished the high spirit which he had delighted in all morning. She was correct, he had never asked her permission. But, he assumed from the fervent return of his kisses, her sanction was implied.

"Mr. Darcy?"

He met her eyes and was relieved to see some kindness restored.

"I did not mean to snap. Pray, forgive me."

"No, no. It has been an eventful day, and I know we have much to talk over."

"Thank you for acknowledging it, and I heartily agree. I have several questions as to how I am now in a carriage with you as a husband bound for what I am guessing is London. But, other than learning of our destination, I am honestly not equal to discussing these concerns in a carriage."

Darcy paled. Did she truly have no idea they were headed to his house in Mayfair? "Of course, I had not realized you were not informed as to our destination. I have readied my home in London for our arrival. Once we are settled there for a few days, I thought we could then discuss our plans for the upcoming season."

She just nodded her head and went back to staring out the window. The hope of a wedding trip seemed quite diminished as it sounded like she would be required to participate in society. She had never had a season. _Perhaps I could find amusement with balls and parties?_

"My family was so pleased to meet you, especially my sister. I must thank you for being so gracious to her. All of them, and especially Georgianna are looking forward to knowing you better. I believe they are all quite taken with you."

"Thank you. That does set my mind at ease. You have my appreciation as well. I have never seen you smile at my family and neighbors for such a duration nor string so many words together for anyone other than Mr. Bingley and myself. Though I believe most were surprised by your exertion, I do not believe your amiability was unwelcome."

"It is my wedding day. Is it so surprising I would meet our well-wishers with pleasure?"

"I suppose not. It is just in the very short time of making your acquaintance, I have observed you are not one to be so free with your expressions and speech. Would it be wrong to assume it took a great deal of effort for one usually so taciturn? Would it not do that you surely need a rest from speaking after such exertions and require silence for the rest of the trip?"

Before he could be offended, she smiled and laughed to cover the hostility in her words. "Now, you really must forgive me. I am afraid I have exposed another fault in that I can become somewhat uncharitable if sleepy. Do you mind if I rest on our journey? You are correct, it has been an eventful day."

"Of course, please rest. Georgianna sometimes prefers to lay her head upon my shoulder instead of the window. Would you like me to move to your seat? Please, let me get you a rug."

Elizabeth was afraid for him to be so close. She was fully aware of her own weakness when his person was near to her own, and she was determined to keep her wits until they could speak in a forthright fashion of just how they had managed to end up married, riding away from her beloved home and family, not even a full seven days after dancing together at Netherfield.

She had not answered when he had already pulled out a luxurious cover from under the seat and crossed his way to her bench.

As much as she wished to, she did not stop him.

He sat down, pulled her against his shoulder and draped the fur over both of them.

The act of being comforted was too much for Elizabeth, and the tears from earlier in the morning came back to silently descend again.

He did not understand why his bride was grieving so, but he felt the full weight of something being very wrong. He had been too happy today.


	25. Chapter 25

**Last chapter:** They get married. Darcy is pathetically entranced by his new wife and a little blind to her uncertainty. When speaking to her father before they went to the church, he half-heartedly offered her a way out which she did not take, and he encouraged her to be courageous. Also, she would not let Darcy kiss her on the carriage ride away from Longbourn, and she cried on his shoulder until she fell asleep. Darcy is too dense and full of his own feelings to really understand why.

* * *

"Elizabeth." He gently shook her shoulder. "We have arrived."

She opened her eyes to a dark carriage. Out the window, there was the glow of several torches lighting an imposing façade of white stone pilasters rising through course after course of brick.

Elizabeth wondered if she were still lost to her slumber.

She had been to London and seen much in the way of architecture to impress her, but never had she been through the mansions of Mayfair. Had she been better prepared, her shock may have been tempered. It was not a shock that produced fear, but it was fair to say she was quite overcome with the notion of it seeming utterly impossible that she, Elizabeth Bennet, had married a man who owned such a building.

His ten thousand a year was bandied about to be sure, but she never considered just what a fortune his income made. She knew Longbourn brought in somewhere between two and three thousand per annum. Looking to the house which could easily fit Longbourn several times over, she realized Mr. Darcy's income was wildly misunderstood. To say he was only rich was a gross perversion.

And, while she held a new appreciation for him for never boasting over the vastness of his wealth, she did feel she was owed some kind of preparedness from him. Yet, he had been silent. Could he have not written her even a few lines of her new life before bringing her to be mistress over a seemingly most ridiculous palace?

All she had imagined for her future was the love of a good man and a comfortable home. Her current situation was neither. Though bathed in torchlight and the lamps from the street, this house was surely too dignified to be warm. She had not even stepped out of the carriage, but she knew she would not be contented in such a grand place.

"Elizabeth, come, let us go inside and out of the cold." Mr. Darcy tried to hide the fact he was scrutinizing her while he unbundled her from all the blankets. He then handed her down himself, dismissed the coach and the servants with a nod, and took the steps forward which would bring his wife into her new home. Elizabeth, her hand on his arm, had an involuntary opposition to entering the house, thus she remained rooted to the ground.

He turned and saw her eyes wide, fully taking in her surroundings. "Do you find the house acceptable? If you do not, I suppose we could find something better suited. I will say, I particularly love this house. It has been in my family a few generations now. But, it would mean nothing to find something else meeting your approval… if it is your wish. I just request you delay judgement for a day or so until you may see it during the day. The sunlight does it considerable justice."

She pulled her gaze away from towering edifice looked to its owner. He was grinning, teasing her. "Sir, I just had not imagined your home to be so, well, prominent."

"Then I will not point out the paintings of Pemberley once we go inside. But, do let us go in before one of us retain a chill permanently."

She finally went forward and up the steps trying to accept this was to be hers. It was a very strange thing. Not one week prior, she was happy in her snug Longbourn. And, now she was walking into the unknown.

"I promise, it will not be so daunting once you become familiar. Do not be afraid." He patted her hand with his.

This was enough to jolt her back to herself. Removing her hand from his arm, she straightened. "You are mistaken if you think me afraid. Rather you find me somewhat ill-equipped as you have seriously neglected to tell me of your situation. I am now aware, so desist in your concern for me."

The door was opened at that moment, and Elizabeth felt the untruth of her words. For what she now saw caused alarm, and she hoped to be giving a faithful portrayal in hiding her awe. There were upwards of five and twenty impeccably dressed servants on hand to greet her. They lined a magnificent marble foyer and some were even standing along a mahogany grand stair.

Her mother would fall over in a heap upon her first visit. This was nothing at all imaginable.

A smart looking woman of at least fifty came forward with her arms extended. Mr. Darcy dropped Elizabeth's arm and grabbed the woman's hands in obvious affection. Her expression was joyful and there were tears in her eyes. She seemed to play the part of a mother rather than servant. "Master Fitzwilliam, we are all so glad to have you home." She looked to Elizabeth. "Both of you. We are overjoyed."

Elizabeth's heart melted a bit and some of her anxiety lessened. This woman cared deeply and esteemed her master, and it looked as if those tender feelings would easily transfer to the new mistress as well. She quickly understood there was nothing to fear from the staff.

Mr. Darcy came back to Elizabeth, took up her hand again, all the way to his lips, and then brought her forward. "Mrs. Ellis, everyone, my I present Mrs. Darcy." He then bowed low over her, and the rest of the staff followed his lead with curtseys and bows of their own. It was all very fanciful and made Elizabeth feel as if she were a queen at court. And, Mr. Darcy, he had never been so gallant. Elizabeth tried her best to be gracious despite her churning emotions at being the center of everyone's attentions. Her natural annoyance at finding herself intimidated pushed the smile to her face, and it gave her courage to acknowledge them all in return.

Mrs. Ellis again curtseyed and approached. Her hands were behind her back and she regained some of her deference. "Mrs. Darcy, we are so thrilled you are here. And, we are all most glad to be at your service."

Elizabeth's courage rose as she found her voice, and it came out as sincere as the thought behind it. "I thank you and greatly look forward to knowing you and the rest of the staff. Your welcome is warmly appreciated."

"Well, then let us take your things. I have tea ready to be served where ever you shall like, and your rooms are ready if you'd like to refresh yourself."

There was a pause, and Elizabeth looked to Mr. Darcy. He was waiting for her response. _He means to give over control over the staff immediately?_

Very well, she might as well assert herself. "Thank you, Mrs. Ellis. We shall go to refresh and then take tea in the… well, I am not sure where we shall take tea." She gave the housekeeper a brilliant smile. "Perhaps you have a suggestion and can tell me if my husband has a preference for a particular room?"

Mrs. Ellis laughed. "I would normally suggest the library or study, but there is a sitting room that has just been refurbished, and it is quite lovely. Please follow me."

Mr. Darcy beamed. He was just acknowledged as 'husband'.

* * *

Elizabeth dismissed her new maid.

Tabitha Harris seemed a lovely woman, someone who instantly made her feel warm and welcome. They had spoken immediately as if they had been friends for a very long time. Elizabeth guessed the maid was only a few years older than herself, but she seemed a decade wiser. Elizabeth trusted her first impression and immediately knew she could trust this other woman. However, an hour in company together could not produce intimacy enough for Tabitha to give the soothing calm Elizabeth's nerves required. No, it was only Jane who could provide such a service.

After a quiet tea with Mr. Darcy in a beautiful sitting room nestled next to the Library, they both retired to their rooms to ready for their evening alone. Nothing was spoken of what was to come, but it seemed both knew they would come together in private to discuss all that had remained unspoken between them, and then after, she supposed their wedding night would proceed as it was intended. Without noticing, she shuddered at the thought.

She was to meet her new husband in their joined sitting room in less than five minutes. Oh, how she wished to stop time. She knew her duty was to submit. And, if she were honest with herself, she knew his touch and caress well enough to know she was not entirely frightened of him physically – though certainly discomfited for the intimacy her mother described… it was so far beyond the realm of her limited experience with Mr. Darcy.

Beyond her embarrassment and despite her previous comfort she had found in his embrace, there was a fear. It was more the distress of possibly losing herself to him. And, before she took the chance with her heart, she owed it to not only herself, but him as well, to force the issue of an understanding before becoming distracted by his touch. How could they begin the intimacy of marriage with all the uncertainty still clinging about?

She had, countless times over the last week, resolved to be happy. It was her nature. But, until she could better grasp her new husband's feelings and how their marriage came to be so quick and tidy, she feared her resolution to make a sound marriage would crumble.

More than once now, he had promised they would discuss all, and she knew him to be a man of his word. She would go to him with an open mind, if anything, for the selfish sake of her own future. She hoped he would in return be forthcoming so they could find common ground. And, perhaps then, she might give into his kiss which very well might melt all the strain away for at least a short time.

 _This is it_. She looked around the room, not that it was familiar or comforting with its oversized bed, silk wall treatments, and soft exotic rugs. When she next came back into this room, she may very well be a maiden no more. Holding her head high, she bid her girlhood goodbye and went to the heavy oak door that held her future behind it.

* * *

Excepting his coat which was draped across the chair, Mr. Darcy was sitting there in all the same clothes he wore through the day.

He had been struck off balance and enchanted by her every move and look since she walked through the doors into the church earlier in the morning. Now she was before him in a silk dressing gown, and her hair hung heavy behind her simply tied with a pale ribbon which barely did credit to its office of holding her wild curls in any semblance of order. How he wished to pull the bow apart just to see her locks float upon her shoulders.

It was too much a temptation to not go to her. As he approached, he took up her hand and kissed it. It was not enough. Before his hand moved to caress her cheek, she stepped back, shook her head, and finally disrupted his captivation.

"I have too many questions without answers."

Disappointment colored his face and marked his voice. "Of course, let us sit. May I pour some wine?"

"Yes, a glass of wine would be nice. I thank you."

He went to the side table and poured from the decanter. "Where shall you like to start?"

She took the glass while he took the seat next to her leaving a small distance between them. The fire was bright, but the absence of more than only a candle or two together with his proximity was stifling.

"I would like to know what was spoken in my father's study _that_ day. I would like to know why, when he came to me after his interview with you, he seemed convinced our marriage was only a matter of time regardless of the discovery of us in the woods. He was more upset by the thought I kept our supposed relationship concealed than the fact I compromised myself. I cannot reconcile my mind to anything other than you misleading him to the extent of our attachment."

The hidden meaning of her words took the wind from Fitzwilliam's chest. _Supposed relationship_? There was nothing supposed about the nature of their relationship. Yes, she had not proclaimed to love him _yet_ , but there were clear indications of her regard on so many occasions.

It was too late to go back - they were married now. She should be grateful he took the brunt of her father's initial anger. He imagined having an honest discourse on their abbreviated engagement, but to start off in so harsh a fashion further roused his disappointment.

"Elizabeth…"

Mr. Darcy abruptly went to his feet and stood before the fire seeming to stare into its depths. Her patience began to wane, but she allowed him to gather himself. She was shortly rewarded as he returned to sit next to her clearly agitated but putting forth the effort to remain calm.

" _Upset_ is not an appropriate representation of your father when I entered his study after him bearing witness to…"

Mr. Darcy bent his head in his hand running his fingers through his hair while Elizabeth sat prim waiting for him to finish his thought. Head still in his own palm, he pierced her eyes with his own. "He was ready to shoot me clean through as soon as I appeared before him, and justified he would have been. My behavior was inexcusable."

He was clearly apologetic and uncomfortable in speaking of what had transpired with her father, but his feelings were of no consequence. She needed to understand, had to know, and she needed to feel the weight of her own part in the matter. She corrected him in a forthright voice. " _Our_ behavior, for both of us engaged in impropriety, sir."

He sat up at this and inclined his head toward her. "Very well, I will not contradict you."

"Thank you. I am sorry you bore the brunt of his anger. But, you must tell me, how did you manage to sway him from it and arrange such a quick marriage? Did he truly demand we marry immediately? I do not understand why you would not seek more time? At least for my sake?"

"Truly?" For as much as Elizabeth's patience had receded, Darcy's had also. "Do you know that your father actually had me present him his own pistol case? And, he was fully in his rights. I would not, could not, deny the man satisfaction. Sadly, I have some understanding of what it is to be on the other side of the desk wanting to murder a man who has stolen something precious from me."

Elizabeth was astounded by the information he presented and by the emotion of his words. His voice was at first incredulous and raised, but as he spoke of his own mysterious experience, he was quiet and pained.

Had her father really threatened violence? It did not seem like the man she knew. And, how could he understand her father's position?

Before she could calm him or ask for clarification, her husband immediately stood and walked again to the fire to pace before it.

"Your father gave me two options. The first was to face the barrel of his gun right there in front of his desk…" Fitzwilliam stopped and turned at this, seeming to know his next words held some importance. Anxiety welled up in his chest.

Other than during the actual moment it was spoken by Mr. Bennet, Darcy had not given thought to the significance of her father's second option. Yes… Mr. Bennet offered him to leave without consequence to himself. Leave Netherfield. Leave her.

It was just as she had offered him before they went into Longbourn after their discovery. She had offered him the alternative course of walking away.

He did not take either opportunity. It never crossed his mind to do anything other than his own conscious required.

"And, the second option, Mr. Darcy?"

He gazed toward her face, almost pleadingly so. She held her mouth in a neutral line while her cheeks showed the warmth of the fire. "My name is Fitzwilliam. We are now married. Nothing can change it. Let us not stand on such formality when we are alone together."

Despite the gentleness of his words, she was unaffected. He recognized her pique at his indirect response before she lifted her eyes to the shadows above playing on the plaster ceiling. "Very well, the second option my father gave?"

He would not be dishonest although he mightily wished his character would allow it, so he trudged forward ignoring the nagging feelings of caution that were growing by the moment.

"Your father also presented me the choice to retreat to Netherfield, pack my belongings, and leave the area - never to see you again."

Elizabeth blinked several times looking anywhere but at him. Slowly, the color in her cheeks matched the white of the silk which wrapped her body. She found her feet and went to stand closely before him… much too closely, and not for a reason he wished.

She was an entire foot shorter than he. But, at that moment, she may well have been twice his height. He felt small by the anger presented in her eyes.

With a low voice and calculated manner, she asked, "Are you telling me you had every chance to save ourselves, the both of us, from this abomination of a marriage?"

Elizabeth was too far into her feelings of imagined betrayal, so she did not recognize the immediate but brief despair which swept over the entire countenance of Fitzwilliam Darcy. In her anger, she only noticed his reaction when he hid the hurt by allowing his own anger to dawn.

"Madam, do not dare presume to know my feelings on the matter. I made my opinion of marriage known to you several weeks prior, nay, the first night you kissed me in the library, I told you we would marry."

"Yes, you told me or rather ordered it, which you will have to forgive me for not believing you were in all seriousness. And, it was you who kissed me if my memory is correct. Further, what sane man declares he should marry someone he hardly knows and hardly approves? Over what? A harmless, meaningless, trifling kiss?"

She threw her hands up and took a step closer, so close she was nearly touching him. She was radiating heat, but all he felt was her resentment. "So, despite my feelings and dare I say your own, you manage to get your way. And, sir, I do not _presume_ but rather _know_ you thought me completely inappropriate as a potential wife."

Elizabeth was too angry to stand still in front of her husband. She marched out of the room with purpose, and Darcy immediately followed.

"Just how can you be so certain to know what my thoughts were at the time? Do you really pride yourself on being such a good judge of others that you can read their innermost mind? It is clear you have no understanding of what my feelings were that night."

Leaving the connecting door open carelessly, she ignored him and disappeared into her chamber and then her dressing room.

The sight of the changes in his mother's chambers brought him up short. He had ordered the suite cleared and freshened when he rode to London the day after he first compromised Elizabeth.

She had not arrived at Darcy House even three hours prior, yet the rooms already seemed to belong to her. Things were no longer as he remembered them. There were new paintings, new curtains, all new bed coverings; even some of the furniture was changed.

He felt as if he could not follow her into her private space without a proper invitation, and especially not with the way things stood between them. He closed his eyes and leaned into the door frame wondering how in the span of not even a half-an-hour things between them became so off-course.

Not a minute later, she came marching from where she was and went straight past him returning to their shared sitting room. She unfolded a wrinkled paper and began to read.

" _Dear Aunt Ellen, I would like the opportunity to clear up your grave misunderstanding. The lady I wrote of, Miss Elizabeth, is no object for my affections, none at all_ …

"Ah, here, yes it goes on… _She does not enchant me or entice me_ … _I was only thinking of the benefit to my sister of such an example_.

"Well, Mr. Darcy, I would thank you for the partial complement if the rest were not so damning. Pray, let me continue. _To add credence to my claim of having no marital intent toward the young lady, I will tell you she is not of our station… although I excuse her of any unbecoming behavior…_ How very comforting, Sir.

" _…her family is wild and uncouth. I also believe she does not possess much in the way of a dowry, and she has no connections of any use to our family. While she herself would serve as an appropriate friend to Georgianna, she is entirely inappropriate to serve as my wife…_

"Oh, I do believe this is dated that day in which you are so adamant sealed our fate. So, you see, as much as I wish to have never been provided with your feelings regarding me and my family, I am in possession of them nevertheless. Forgive me for not returning this to you sooner. I will have you know it was given to me deliberately by someone who must have found it carelessly discarded, and had I known it was your personal correspondence, I would have never read such a thing. It was only when I saw my own name while trying to discover the author to return it, did I read the words."

She walked over to Darcy and proffered the note.

He was standing there with his eyes closed breathing heavily clearly mastering his response. He did not look at her nor take the parchment. She was tired and weary, only wanting her bed, and had not the least bit patience to continue their discussion. She made her way to the door but stopped to place the note on the small writing desk.

"Good night, sir."

As she reached for the door handle, he spoke.

"No."

She whirled around and took a step back further into the room though her voice was defiant. "Pardon me?"

He came to her, reached to lay his hands on her shoulders and then seemed to think better of it. His voice was rough. "How long have you been in possession of that letter?"

"Since Netherfield."

"And, do you think by its crumpled state that perhaps it was meant to be discarded?"

"Perhaps you should be more careful to discard your drafts if you do not wish them to fall to rapacious women who will stoop low enough to directly point out a perceived rival's deficiencies. Poor Miss Bingley, she should have saved herself the effort considering she would have never won her prize regardless. But, really, can you imagine my mortification this morning in meeting your dear aunt who has come to know so much about me by your correspondence? But, then again, I am sure my mortification was nothing to your own as it fell to you to take on the introduction of my - how did you put it, yes, _uncouth_ – my uncouth family to your very superior relations."

Elizabeth's eyes held fury like he had not seen, and his own anger which marred with the disappointment in his own chest eventually grew to match hers. But, before he could get a word out, she continued.

"So, tell me, why did you choose to marry me? Why did you continually seek me out? How could you do it? You clearly viewed me as someone to bind your life with. Why was I not given a choice that day? I cannot forgive you or my father. I was not given a choice until it was too late. But, you… you were! I do not understand. Had I been given the choice when you were, I would choose the correct path. You, you and my father have denied me all matter of choice for my own life."

"Elizabeth, you were unavoidably compromised –"

"Oh, and I suppose it was your honor which required you not to step aside!"

"There was only ever one honorable path between us, and it was marriage. Forgive me for saying, but my attentions were never forced upon you. You received them willingly, and may I remind you, you also _gave_ them freely. I am not sure why though considering you were thoroughly convinced I thought so ill of you. That alone is a serious concern of itself – how could you reciprocate my physical affection thinking there were no right feelings behind them – especially having been what you consider enlightened as to my thoughts of you?

"Regardless, you so quickly forget your own complicity in the whole affair. Just earlier you required me to acknowledge your own part. But let me be clear now: the very first night, in Bingley's library, when you returned my kiss, there was only one honorable course. Marriage was the only outcome for us despite what our feelings were at the time. And, further, we could not have been married without your consent. I do not recall anyone there forcing the words from your mouth today."

Elizabeth stared him down cold, walking right up to him trapping him against a chair. His only reasonable choice was to fall back into it while she stood over him.

"So, tell me? What does your honor afford, Mr. Darcy? Certainly not my happiness, and I venture to guess not yours either. Where is the honor in a life tied together for the wrong reasons? Are you so inconsiderate to even your own feelings, let alone mine, that you would willingly disregard my father's pardon for you to leave only to inflict a most probable lifetime of contempt for me?"

Her words infuriated him. How dare she question his honor in such a way? He could not stay seated nor calm. She stepped back when he stood ready to reach out and shake sense into her.

"Contempt? Are you so insensible, madam, to see what this marriage brings you? Pray, let me enlighten you to what you have gained today - a husband who will not mistreat you, children whose future you will not have to worry for, the title of mistress over all of my estates and houses, connections to the nobility, wealth beyond your meager imaginings -"

She interrupted him wanting to make him understand she was not mercenary in any form. Her character and feelings required she immediately amend his ignorance.

"Yes, my meager imaginings, indeed! Do you think I care for any of what you have just described? You clearly have no idea of what I consider a good marriage should bring? I care for no such things as wealth, estates, and connections. And, if you knew me at all, you would have fully explained your situation in life so I might have disabused you of such notions by asserting more strenuously my wish to avoid a marriage with you. Do you not think you could have warned me at least that I was coming to a new home with enough servants to match the population of Meryton? No, in direct opposition to being thankful for what you offer, I am decidedly uncomfortable with it all. How am I to be easy and content with all of this ridiculous finery? I did not ask for this life, nor would I have sought it."

"Are you seriously saying that now my offense is that I am too wealthy? Do you hear yourself, Elizabeth? Do you know how many women would be falling over themselves to be in your position today? To have the slightest chance at being mistress of everything I own, everything I have? Are you not even grateful for the opportunity to be raised to your new level of consequence?"

She quirked her head in disbelief at him and eventually closed her slack mouth. She gripped the back of the chair she had moved behind so tightly her fingernails dug into the heavy fabric.

"Grateful? You would prefer that I fawn over you? Perhaps I shall fall to my knees in supplication for the privilege of being coerced into marrying such a conceited man? You are very mistaken, Mr. Darcy to think I would be grateful to have the choice of this marriage taken from me. And, you, you who had the chance to walk away and prevent my punishment. For it will be a punishment to be married to one as arrogant as you. I would never have agreed to marry you if my father had not witnessed us. I never wished this."

She had not removed herself from behind the chair, and he realized he should temper his words as to not frighten her or provoke her further, but the things said had already gone too far to salvage any hope of redeeming himself, so he did not stop himself from calling her out on her own folly.

His voice was unforgiving and dripping in condescension knowing his logic to the matter of their situation prevailed.

"If you did not wish this, then why are we here now in my house, my sitting room, as man and wife? Are you telling me every time you kissed my lips, placed your arms around me, ran your fingers through my hair, that you were only toying with my affections? Why? To prove you had power over a man who wrote on a piece of paper he did not want to marry you? A piece of paper that was crumpled and bound for the flames because the words were not true? A piece of paper that fell to the floor forgotten because you wholly and completely distracted me that night in the library when I saw you there reading my copy of Blake? Was it just an amusement to you to provide your favors so freely to me? Do I not have every right to believe you would have eventually chosen this path based on your every reaction to me? Are you so wanton? Are you without compassion to a man who confessed he had never paid such attentions to a woman? Are you so naïve to not know the power you held over me? Or rather, it is likely you do and have no caring feeling within you. Madam, I never shirk my duty, and even had I known your true feelings all along, I would always choose the honorable path no matter how miserable it may make me. But, you Elizabeth, you are the one without honor."

With each question he asked and statement he made, he moved closer to her. He was wildly furious, and he was menacing without any effort considering his great height and how he stalked to her. By the end of his speech, Elizabeth was forced against the wall, and his hand was on the end of the silk belt of her dressing gown. One pull and it would open.

This Mr. Darcy she had not seen, and she could not bear to look anywhere but at the hand poised over her waist. She realized she had pushed him beyond the boundary of coherent behavior. Before she was exposed further, and before Elizabeth truly knew what she was about, her small hands pushed him back with all the pent-up force in her body. She reared her hand back and slapped him across the face with all she could muster.

She raised her head from her downward gaze to inflict her response. "Damn your so-called honor. You are no gentleman."

She stood there, looking at her husband through angry tears. He was correct. She had no compassion for him, at least not in this moment. There was no immediate remorse. She had never physically acted in anger, but since she did not understand her own reaction, she could not yet be sorry.

The sting in her palm did not register. She grabbed the ends of the thick silk which held her dressing gown together, and she cinched herself into the wrap as forcefully as possible. She held her head high, looked at the wall over the shoulder of her husband. Walking calmly to her room, she shut the door quietly.

* * *

She would not be reduced to a screaming mess despite the overwhelming urge to release the remaining frustration which was still present in every fiber of her body down to her toes. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her reaction to their argument. It was bad enough he saw her tears.

Still, her hands were shaking, and she must do something to satisfy her unconquerable feelings. She looked at her hands willing them to be under control. She was disgusted by the light which reflected from the adornments attached to her fingers, adornments which signaled being bound in such a way as to feel suffocated and crushed.

She pulled off her betrothal gift and the very ring he placed upon her finger earlier that morning. She did not examine them and they were a wretched weight in her grasp. Without any sense, and as if she held a heated brick in her hand, she threw with everything she had before collapsing on the bed wracked with silent sobs.

Over and over she questioned how had this day, a day that should have been if not perfect then at least pleasant, gone so completely wrong?

Deciding she had cried too many tears for one day, she scolded herself into calmness and contemplation. The weight of these considerations was too much to bear after such an exhaustion of anger.

 _Oh, how I need Jane_. But, it was also Jane's wedding night. And Elizabeth felt a pang of jealousy. Her beloved sister was likely enjoying the best day of her life. Jane and Mr. Bingley's smiles were so genuinely blissful this morning. No one could doubt their felicity and success as a couple. Elizabeth had always wanted what it appeared her sister had found, and while she was pleased beyond measure for Jane, she desperately wished to smile like that as well.

No, no longer would Jane be there to talk through her troubles and thoughts when she desperately needed someone to wrap her with comfort.

She looked over at the mantle clock in her room. It was only a quarter until nine o'clock. Surely her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner would have returned to their home in Cheapside from Longbourn by now despite the drizzle earlier in the afternoon.

It was too late by half to send a note and request the presence of her aunt, nor would it be proper. But, there was nothing for it. She felt she could not stand to be alone in this over-decorated and extravagant room for even another minute.

She rang the bell for her new maid. Surely, Tabitha would help her and understand. And, if she did not, she was now mistress of this house. The request forming in her mind could not go unfulfilled.

 **A/N:** Never fear, Elizabeth gets her comeuppance very shortly. And, remember, this is P &P - they have to fall desperately in love, get married, and have a thousand babies. So, cheer up.

Your comments and reviews cheer me up... hint-hint. :)

Oh, I changed the letter from earlier chapters just a tad to suit my purposes. I'll fix this when I edit.


	26. Chapter 26

**RECAP:** The last chapter saw their wedding night which was a blowout of epic proportions. Elizabeth lashed out about her choice to marry being taken away by her father and Darcy. He kind of accused her of being a tease with no regency-style honor. His passion almost came out as he reached for the belt of her robe, and probably because she knew she couldn't deny him, she stopped him with a stinger across the face. Kind of crappy and immature on her part. (I'm sure I was in middle school when I last slapped a boy.) In her defense, being a 20 year old woman in a ginormous, fancy house with a big, tall, fancy man of a husband who is ready to take her to bed for the first time is probably a bit overwhelming. Of course, running away is clearly not the answer as we shall see.

* * *

"Madam!" Tabitha looked upon her new mistress with concern and bewilderment.

"I know we do not yet know each other, but I beg your loyalty. I require your service."

"Of course, Mrs. Darcy, anything."

Elizabeth crumpled face blushed furiously under the scrutiny of her servant's concerned and questioning eyes which lingered over the hastily self-buttoned gown and plain cloak. In response, Elizabeth pulled up her quivering chin in defiance daring _his_ servant to question _her_ authority.

Her voice was stern for only a second before it trailed off in acute anguish. "Tabitha…"

"Oh, Mrs. Darcy!" The maid rushed to her mistress letting the concern win out, and although the relationship was new and boundaries were not established, the maid took the liberty of offering comfort with embracing arms and soothing pats. It would be a go against the most basic womanly bonds to only observe another female at the point of breaking.

At last Elizabeth raised her eyes. "Tabitha, I must be away, at once."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Darcy, surely things are not bad as that. I know this night does not always go so well and things are not so easy for new brides, but it does get better, much easier. Please let order a bath; it will lessen the pain."

Something in her mistress's face told Tabitha Harris she was off the mark. Far off the mark.

Elizabeth went to the vanity to retrieve her reticule from the place she left it earlier in the day.

"I require a carriage and discretion. I ask only you and the required groomsmen to know of my leaving tonight – I require Mr. Darcy not be informed. Can you lead me through the house to the stables? I need to be on my ways as soon as possible." Elizabeth thought to be with her aunt, in the comfort of her family, within the hour if not sooner. She prayed they would forgive the late intrusion.

Tabitha was wringing her hands, and Elizabeth felt regret at putting her in such a position. She had never made a servant uncomfortable. But, this was _her_ maid. If Tabitha's allegiance could not be won at this deciding moment, Elizabeth would find her own servant or freely do without. Tabitha was lovely and surely could find a more proper mistress… maybe it would be for the better. Elizabeth had the idea that if this was to be her life, then it may not be fair to inflict her wretched state upon a personal servant.

This time is was Elizabeth who offered comfort and grabbed the other woman's hands. "You must understand I am very sorry to put you in this position. And, I understand if you cannot help me, but I promise that nothing ill should fall your way if you do. If Mr. Darcy is unjust, I will see to it you are provided for – you have my word. If anything, I only ask that you allow me ten minutes to make it out the door and find a hack. I truly must get to my aunt in Cheapside, and I do not think I shall survive another minute here."

"Cheapside? A hack? No, no. I will attend you – it is my duty, and I am honored to be at your service. Please allow me to order the coach; I shall do so discreetly. Please rest yourself and ease your distress, and I shall return in five minutes with everything ready."

Tabitha assisted her new mistress to lie down in the bed. The agitation in Elizabeth's mind was great and she was physically fraught from her dreadful argument with Mr. Darcy. However, she had no qualms over what she was about to do. She could not think of _him_ in the sitting room, separated by only a door and the gulf of everything which had gone terribly awry between them.

She hugged the pillow and wished for it to hug her in return. _How are we to go on_? _How could this day end in such a way?_

She was not responsible for his actions, but she was for her own, and she suddenly could not pardon herself for acting so disgracefully to a man she had just promised to love, honor, and obey. He was correct in that no one had forced the vows from her mouth that morning.

Despite being provoked by his admission that her father provided him a chance to walk away from her, she should have acted more judiciously and restrained her actions to that of a gentlewoman.

She should have tried with sincerity to start her marriage as she meant to go along – as a good, dutiful wife. But, it was too late to go back. She was hopelessly disabused of any actions which could bring about a reconciliation after all the accusations they flung toward one another.

And, she had struck him. The lids of her eyes closed of their own volition and her teeth clenched as the shame washed down her body.

She felt ill to her stomach at the thought. When he came at her with such anger, she had to admit she was frightened. Her reaction was natural as if in defense of her own person. But, she should not have let things grow into such a fervor.

Could she imagine a life with him now after this night? How were they to overcome a beginning? How could she show her face to him? As much as his behavior and words were unpardonable, she knew she was far more culpable, her own behavior beyond reprehensible. But, as sorry as she was beginning to feel for how they left their wedding night, she did not think herself ready to acknowledge it to _him_.

She stared longingly at the door which would lead to Mr. Darcy. Any precipitating thoughts of summoning her courage to return to him was cut short by the entrance of her maid in a simple woolen cloak carrying a sad, gentle smile.

"Mrs. Darcy, please follow me. We shall take the servants route if it is acceptable. Most all the servants are celebrating your wedding, so we shall not encounter the others. Let us go."

* * *

They shuffled through the darkened hall and escaped through a back entrance as Mr. Johnson followed silently behind watching his mistress and the new servant board a Darcy carriage.

Darcy sat in a soft velvet chair gazing into the ever-moving flames for how long he did not know. All his senses, the notion of time, and mind were respectively numb, gone, and overcome.

If he had the power to put words to his current condition, he would have reflected how having one's hopes and dreams, one's very future, crushed into a thousand pieces could make one feel wildly alone.

Darcy could not get much beyond the physical deadness which had overcome him and the devastating cold which settled in deep under his skin. Despite the warmth flowing from the hearth not five feet away and his skin being so tingly and scorching, he felt as if he were in the midst of a Derbyshire winter with no great coat for protection.

He leaned back trying to breathe deeply but could not. There was a heaviness over his chest as if the air was being plied out of him. How he wished to succumb to that invisible force and let his world go dark.

The only relief would be her arms around him. He wished her to come back, forgive him, and wrap him in the indescribable comfort only her physical touch could give. Yet, she made it plain in no uncertain terms how she could only view him with contempt.

His remedy could not be. He was so painfully frozen he could not even think to call out or beg for his suffering to be relieved.

His trance was broken when he heard a door close in the distance. It was from within his chambers. With great pain, he went to his room. She was not coming back, and he would not prevail upon her.

Looking around his room lit only by a well-tended fire and few candles in their cradles, Darcy knew Johnson had been there.

Upon Darcy's desk, there was a fresh decanter and single tumbler. How did that man always know what was needed? Thinking a drink may be settling and allow him some sleep, Darcy went and poured.

The full glass slipped from his hand and onto the floor.

The lettering on the envelope which laid upon the desk was something he had not seen in some time. It was a terrifying prospect to open the missive, and Darcy did not think he had the strength to bear to read it.

Eschewing the glass to the floor and the not noticing the whiskey which had disappeared into the fine silk threads of the carpet, he reached for the decanter and the letter.

 _Pemberley_

 _August 10_ _th_ _, 1806_

 _Fitzwilliam,_

 _If you are receiving a written word and not a handshake of hearty congratulations, then you must forgive me for not being strong enough any longer for this world. At least your mother is by my side while we watch together from above on this joyous day._

 _My hope is Theo was the one to deliver this into your hands and not the new Mr. Andrews – he's far too stuffy for such a young solicitor, but my hope is he is doing you a good service as did his father for me. He has been here to review all the estate documents in the case the worst comes to pass. I pray it does not, but I admit sometimes I can hear your mother beckoning me with her lovely voice to come and take a rest with her._

 _I was always weak to her desires. And it is the way it should be I suppose._

 _My marriage was the purpose of my life, Fitzwilliam. From it sprang all of which I am most proud. I pray on the day you read this that you will know the seeds of conviction of what I speak._

 _You are an honorable son who is well on his way to becoming an honorable man, the most honorable of men, of which I am most proud. I trust you married well, not in the superficial or material sense, but well in the matter of the heart and character, someone worthy of you, Pemberley, and the Darcy name._

 _Without the love of a good, strong woman, eventually Pemberley and all your earthly possessions mean nothing. Take it from a man who very well may not be long for this world – none of it goes with you but the love you have in your heart. And, it is the legacy one leaves behind which matters to others after you are gone._

 _I hope I am remembered for the husband, father, and friend I was rather than only a good 'master' of a great estate._

 _I digress, son, for you this is not a day of memories and mourning. It is a day of celebration and love. How I wish I was there to meet your lovely wife._

 _I should not speculate on the woman to which you pledge all, but I should like to think she somewhat like your mother or even your grandmother – strong and kind as my dear Anne and fully capable of making you laugh and keeping you in line as your grandmother Darcy._

 _Son, your new wife took a vow to obey you, and it is delicate power you now hold. Trust me in that you use it most cautiously. Your happiness depends on your discernment as well as you honoring your vows to love and cherish. I pray you use the example of myself and your mother and that you look to God's Holy word. You know well how I feel of society's duplicitous views and hypocrisy; continue to stay from those trappings._

 _You once gave me a vow to remain pure and cast off the temptation which produces consequences you have surely by now seen many times over. Your wife will love you more for it. Embrace her gratitude. Nothing can be so fulfilling as loving your wife with not only a pure heart but pure body and in the process earning her trust with your lifelong fidelity._

 _Now, Fitzwilliam, today, you have vowed so much more than what you promised me all those years ago._ _All things work together for good for them who are called according his purpose._ _Live out your purpose and love your wife. You are called to love her as Christ loved the church – you are to love her above even yourself – seek her happiness above yours. I am confident the woman you choose to honor with carrying on the Darcy name will return your love and honor you with her respect._

 _I suppose within the happiness of a courtship and a new marriage you may not have yet understood the significance of 'for better for worse', but it is guaranteed there will be dark times. I write that not for your benefit of today, the joyous day of your marriage which will no doubt be so blissful you will fall to comprehend the truth in what I write, but I caution you for the unknown days ahead which are sadly sure to strike out at you in some point of your marriage._

 _It grieves me to not be there to see you through those times which life makes an impossibility to avoid. But, you are your own man and now have a duty to your wife to uphold all that you pledged during even the darkest of times. As much as I pray those times will be fleeting, I pray for you to remember this:_

 _It is these time which will test your fortitude, character, and will challenge the bond you have to your wife. Let these be the moments your commitment shines forth. Be the strength she will need, and you will be rewarded with her strength when it you who needs it. When you fail, when she fails, offer the grace of forgiveness and accept it yourself. Then pick your arse up from the ground and give more effort. Darcy men learn from their trials and do all that is required to succeed._

 _Marriage is a sacred union of not just bodies, hearts, and minds, but it is a union of mutual purpose._ _That_ _is where your life becomes a triumph. When you lose sight of that purpose, press on and put faith in your vows, your wife, and God._

 _I smile, along with your mother, with as much joy as a father who is most proud of the man his precious boy has become,_

 _George Darcy_

 _PS – If Theo remains and is not here sitting with Anne and me, I pray you give him a vigorous embrace and tell him the whiskey and Rebecca are waiting but will wait long until he is ready. Ask him someday to tell you of how we met. I was remiss in not ever giving you a full accounting. He is not a servant but one of the wisest men I know and a great protector of those he counts as friends. When you need advice, consider his counsel a great advantage._

For Fitzwilliam Darcy, this was too much. It was several minutes before he composed himself.

He was not in a state to present himself to Elizabeth. But, heed his father's words he would do.

He took out a sheet of fresh paper as he took a deep fortifying breath. With his heart split open by all the happiness the morning afforded, the disappointed anger which had come earlier in the evening, and now the hope his father provided, Darcy poured his soul into the words on the paper. His lines were not even, his language was simple, and each mark of his pen was made with a plain truth lacking any pride. He laid himself bare at her mercy.

With wavering courage, he stood before the door leading from the sitting room to her chamber. He raised his hand to knock but the panic griped him and he found he did not wish to disturb her peace if she had been lucky to find any in sleep.

He bent and pushed the envelope along with all his hopes under the door. It was done. He was hers for the taking, and as he lowered himself to the floor and leaned his head against the cool wood paneling, he prayed she would open her heart to him and all their life might be.

As some warmth crept back in under his skin, he closed his eyes praying to whomever might listen for a better understanding with Elizabeth. Soon the day's emotional beating manifested, and Fitzwilliam was on the floor, asleep, waiting for his wife to find his declarations he so honestly put to paper.

* * *

"Elizabeth!" Mr. Edward Gardiner could hardly trust the sight before him.

"Lizzy? What on earth are you doing here? Are you well? Is your husband? Come in dear, now." Elizabeth dispatched herself, compete with a soaked cloak, into her aunt's open arms at the sound of her voice.

Mr. Gardiner ushered the maid inside. His wife assisted their niece into the closest sitting room and onto the nearest sofa where she held the fragile young woman in her lap whispering reassurances just as she did with her young children.

Mr. Gardiner excused himself to make sure the grooms and horses were properly seen to and to give his niece a chance to calm herself before he requested an explanation. He had hoped the maid would follow and give him some idea of what had transpired to cause Elizabeth to make her way to their doorstep, but the silent maid remained loyally with her new mistress.

Mrs. Gardiner looked up to the servant while she still held Elizabeth to her bosom like a grieving child. "Miss, may I have your name?"

"Tabitha Harris, madam."

"Miss Harris, would you be so kind as to present yourself to the kitchen and request tea. Please ask anyone you find along the way, and tell them I am the one requesting it in the morning room. And then, please have a cup yourself. There is a table for the staff, and they will see you are most welcome by the fire."

Tabitha gave a long look at her mistress clearly not wanting to leave her but finally did as she was bidden.

Mrs. Gardiner reached her hands to Elizabeth's face and brought it up to meet her own.

"Pray look at me, my dear."

Elizabeth slowly opened her matted lashes to reveal eyes so filled with pain that Mrs. Gardiner clutched her again and rocked her.

"Dearest, please tell me you are physically well. Are you hurt? Your husband, is he well?"

Lizzy finally whispered to her aunt. "I am not well, but I am physically unharmed. But, aunt, I am so, so wretched."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and drew consolation from her aunt. It did little to alleviate her suffering, but she would take what she could. As she settled into the familiar arms of comfort, her mind drifted backward.

The carriage ride from Mayfair to Cheapside had the effect of providing total collapse to Elizabeth's spirit. The guilt was heaped on her when she first received congratulations from the groomsmen who saw to her comfort and safety. Their expressions were a practiced neutral, but the voices were kind. She was not deserving.

She pushed and pushed her own conscience away and kept her eyes open as to not see the visage of her husband with hurt and shock on his face after she raised her hand to him. She was only partly successful as other images came unbidden. Her mind returned to the day her father came upon them in the woods, the day her fate was sealed. As if watching from the seats of the theater, she saw and heard their cruel conversation when she asked if he loved her. He started to tell her how he respected and admired her, but she heard herself cut him and then his voice asking if she loved him. She heard her unforgiving reply of a single 'no', and then her mind was overtaken by the speechless disappointment etched onto his face.

The recollections cut her to the quick.

Had she wanted his love even then?

Various moments of their passionate and turbulent acquaintance rolled in a random succession through her mind. She saw him as he looked haughtily down at her as they were first introduced, then she remembered how his eyes locked with his later that night as she left the assembly and how she could not shake the uneasy feelings for days. Had he heard her laugh with Charlotte over his malicious remarks? Was it his way of conveying his remorse?

She knew his eyes now were teasing when he told her in front of Miss Bingley that an accomplished woman should improve her mind by extensive reading – how she blushed when she recalled the quiet but perceptible lift of his brow before he continued to bait her. She now knew his manner for what it was and what she could not see at the time. He had been flirting with her and showing his interest even then.

Her mind next saw him breathing heavily with his eyes closed during their first kiss in the dark library. She remembered the unstoppable thrill which went flooded her body as he lifted his lips from hers only to lower them again. She recalled his indignation at the officer which was his boyhood friend and his sincere appreciation for her care of his scuffed hand, then she recalled him drunk in the corridor of Netherfield smiling down on her as he leaned against the wall for support. And, when he kissed her outside the front door of Longbourn, she thought she went weak.

How playful, kind and protective he was at Jane's engagement ball – what would it have been like to have a ball of their own celebrating their engagement?

The visions went on and on, one more pleasant after the other until her mind found the picture of his face when she entered the church for their marriage.

What she saw in her mind broke her heart. He meant to offer himself to her despite their circumstances, and she had nothing but throw her anger in his face and refuse to take the gift he was so generously offering.

She was a miserable person and deeply ashamed.

Her tears fell despite herself until the coaches came to a stop. She flew out of the carriage not noticing the cold as she fought the rain to make her way to her aunt's door.

Elizabeth blinked her eyes open again realizing she was safe and dry as she became more alert to her Aunt Gardiner's soothing voice.

"Elizabeth, does Mr. Darcy know you are here? It is your wedding night. Is that the trouble? Please tell me."

Elizabeth shook her head into her aunt's neck knowing to what was referred. "No, we never got as far."

"You must tell me, does your husband know you are here?"

"He does not. Though, I do not think he has any concern for me now."

"Oh, my Lizzy dear. He is surely worried for you. We must send a note immediately. But, first, please let me help you out of this cloak and go check on the tea. It is almost eleven. I will not make you go back tonight if your wish is to stay here. But, I cannot vouch for your uncle. He will wish to escort you home first thing in the morning if not take you there tonight. Surely he will want to send a message immediately."

"Do what you feel you must, but please send Tabitha to me before a note is dispatched. I beg you." Elizabeth removed her cloak with the help of her aunt, and then pulled herself under a heavily knitted wrap drawing it close.

Several minutes later, Tabitha, along with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, entered and settled around her. Tabitha remained to the side near the wall while Mrs. Gardiner flanked her side as her uncle knelt before her and spoke. "Elizabeth, it goes against my better judgement to allow you to remain while your husband does not know of your present location. I have written him a note, and Miss Harris has promised me he will receive it. In it, I have assured him of your safety and his welcome at any point should he wish to retrieve you. But, dear, I must know before I send word to your husband if he has acted in any dishonorable way to you. You must be absolutely truthful."

Elizabeth felt the tears again roll down her face. She had these wonderful people in all their kindness surrounding her when she most assuredly did not deserve it. And, here her uncle was questioning Mr. Darcy conduct. It was most unfair as it was her own conduct which should be questioned. "Uncle, I give you my word my husband is an honorable man. It is my honor which is in question presently."

"Elizabeth, I cannot believe it." He reached out and squeezed her hand. "Very well, I will personally see Miss Harris escorted to your home and my note delivered to your husband."

"No! I mean, I beg you. Please allow Tabitha to see to it, I do not think Mr. Darcy will presently see you or anyone else for that matter. He should not be disturbed. Tabitha, can you see that Mr. Darcy's valet receives my uncle's note and leave it to him? Please." Elizabeth implored both of them with her eyes.

He nodded his head in agreement although Elizabeth knew her uncle was not satisfied in the least. "Very well, Elizabeth. Between all of us, you know your husband best I suppose. But I shall not allow your maid to go out this night unescorted. I am displeased you took on the risk of travelling alone through the dark and the rain although I understand Mr. Darcy's driver and grooms were most conscious of your safety. I still do not approve.

"Tomorrow, I will personally take you home in our carriage and not be gratified until I see you personally delivered to your husband."

Elizabeth nodded her head in agreement and swiped at her tears. Her uncle gave her captured hand one last squeeze before he gave his parting words.

"Lizzy, my dearest niece, please do not lose hope on such a hopeful day. You and your husband seemed genuinely happy this morning, and it burns your old uncle's heart to see you this way. Please listen and talk with your aunt." He gave his wife a knowing look. "She is a wise woman." He then looked to Tabitha. "Miss Harris, if you are ready, I think we should leave. I will ready myself and meet you near the front door in a few minutes."

Elizabeth's uncle leaned down to kiss her head before he left them, and her maid followed not far behind.

Madeline Gardiner settled herself at the far end of the sofa and pulled Elizabeth's head to her lap and then rearranged the cover. "Tea should be here soon. But, if you are ready, I think you should start. And, please, from the beginning." She tucked the stray curls behind Lizzy's ear as she patiently waited with a listening ear.

Elizabeth started slowly with the night she met Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy in the assembly rooms of Meryton. She tried to be as succinct and as stoic as possible with her tale, but her feelings intruded into the narrative as the story became more drawn out. Desolation and remorse laced through her words like a wild vine.

Mrs. Gardiner did her best to conceal her reactions, but her gasp was audible as Elizabeth described the moment when Mr. Darcy first kissed her while Jane was ill at Netherfield Park. Elizabeth was too insensible to notice Mrs. Gardiner's shocked countenance and so continued.

Elizabeth's voice became heavier as she proceeded, and Mrs. Gardiner noticed the brief, sad smiles as her niece described the stolen moments alone as they came to experience more of each other. When Elizabeth slowed her story and withdrew into herself, Mrs. Gardiner coaxed the words out and learned of how their engagement came about – she was mortified and astounded at the compromise.

Elizabeth said no more after revealing how her father decided she would marry Mr. Darcy. Allowing the knitted warmth which was covering her curled up body to slide off, Elizabeth made her way to the window to stare through the lace draperes at the rain.

"Elizabeth, I appreciate it was not easy for you to share your story, but I must know how you arrived here on your wedding night."

She didn't turn around nor lend her voice to a response.

Madeline Gardiner joined the niece she loved as a daughter and reached out her hand to Elizabeth's arm. "My dear, it will do you no good to hide here in my sitting room so late in the night, and it will do you no good to hide from your feelings. I will not force your confidence on exactly how you came to be here as I believe you have said enough for me to work it out on my own. But, I must know, must I tell you what your heart must surely already own?"

The sound of his angry voice from earlier in the evening resonated in her ear. _Are you without compassion to a man who confessed he had never paid such attentions to a woman? Are you so naïve to not know the power you held over me?_

Elizabeth visibly stiffened and then brought her hand over her eyes as she shielded herself against the greatest pain which descended into her chest and plunged deeper than a knife. _He loves me – he must._ The sharp truth knocked her to her knees being such a shock she could not cry out against it. Her gown puffed out around her like a pillow of muslin over the smooth planked floor which did nothing to soften the blow of acknowledging the reality of what she had ruined. She clutched at her breast wishing the pain to cease and taking herself for the greatest fool.

* * *

Darcy's left a tormented sleep to find Mr. Johnson stooped next to him with eyes of concern.

"Sir, may I assist you?"

Darcy was horrified to be found so on the floor next to Elizabeth's door. He gained his footing while looking around to affirm the time, but his eyes were yet too bleary to make out the hands of the clock.

"It is half-past three in the morning." As usual, Mr. Johnson supplied an answer to an unspoken question.

"Thank you, but I do not require anything. Please return to bed. It has been a long day."

"Mr. Darcy… Master Fitzwilliam…"

A strange fear settled over Darcy at the despondency in the voice of his man not to mention the use of an appellation he had not heard in a very long time. He turned around to look at the door which led into Elizabeth's room.

"Sir, she is not there."

He was stricken with confusion. "Pardon?"

"Mrs. Darcy left in the company of her maid hours ago. Miss Harris has returned with a note from an uncle of Mrs. Darcy. She is safe somewhere in Cheapside, and her uncle indicated he intends to return her in the morning."

"She left? She is not here?"

"She is not, but her uncle assured in his message he would return her."

"And, when did you receive this? Why was it not addressed to me?" A burgeoning contempt made Darcy's voice hard.

"Around midnight. It was addressed to you, but Miss Harris informed me of the contents. My apologies for not waking you sooner."

Darcy was still gazing at the door which shut him away from the woman who had been his wife for less than a day complete. Mortification was his primary reaction until a deep rage trickled out of the pit of his stomach and overtook the limbs of his body. He took two steps, reared his hand back and attempted with all his strength to put it through the solid wood of the door.

He roared with the pain which radiated up through his arm and found its way to his heart.

"Leave me now!" He yelled at Johnson and then expelled several oaths before he thundered to a large urn of flowers. He violently emptied the stems on the floor, fell to his knees wretching into the empty vessel expelling all the love he had felt in his heart that day.

Without looking up, he spit out, "Get out!"

Theodore Johnson left with nothing but compassion for his friend's dear child. That the poor man was in unbearable pain was undeniable. He had heard some of the argument which had occurred earlier in the evening, and he was dismayed the new mistress would abandon her husband on their wedding night. Yet, he would not put all the blame upon her head.

"Johnson…" He heard Fitzwilliam call from the sitting room. Gathering the nearest cloth and a glass of water, he ran back to see his charge and master still kneeling over the urn. "I need the key to her door. Please. Do not delay." He wretched again.

Before fetching the key, Johnson went to his own knees and offered the dampened cloth and the glass of water. Yet, he decided pity was not the path to action. With the commanding boom of a soldier and in complete opposition to the subservient tones of a servant in Mayfair, Johnson ordered, "Fitzwilliam, take some water and take a breath right now. Pull yourself together, son."

This was enough to get his master's attention. Darcy wiped his mouth, drank the water, and stood at his full height with a face of stone. "I said get me the key, damn you!"

Johnson grabbed the urn and disappeared into the next room only to return before Darcy could sink back into despair. "Here you are, sir." And, as Darcy reached out an already swollen hand to retrieve it, Mr. Johnson added, "You will have to let me look at that. We may need to ring for the surgeon."

"You will do no such thing. Leave me now."

"I will leave you long enough to get supplies. As it is, you will already not be able to write with that hand for a week at least. You will let me tend it if you expect it to be much use to you in the future."

For a brief moment, Darcy's anger changed direction. "Do you dare order me? You may have had a so-called friendship with my father, but I am the master of this house. You will do as I say if you expect to keep your position. Do not return until you are called!"

Theodore Johnson narrowed his eyes before they relaxed into pity and disappointment. Without a word, he offered a formal bow before removing himself from the room.

Darcy rubbed his good hand over his face and through his hair until realized the key was in the other hand. With determination, ignoring the stinging – both physical and otherwise - which persisted throughout his body, he let himself into her room.

It was dark except for the fire burning low in the grate. He looked around taking in the linens, rugs, and furnishings he had expressly ordered to be in place before he returned with his new wife. He did not have time to have the room completely redecorated in time for their arrival. But, he wanted it to be a comfort for her until she could furnish things to suit her own tastes. He planned to ask her to make-over the whole of Darcy House to befit her desires no matter the expense.

So much of the house was the product of his grandmother and own mother. While the surroundings were a comfort and reminder of his beloved childhood, he wished Elizabeth to make it her own – their own. He vowed to her all his worldly possessions, and he meant it with his whole heart. He desired for her to leave her mark on their home so their children would be able to look upon it as comforting sanctuary knowing their mother had created it.

 _Heart. Children_. At the moment, those ideas were unfathomable.

He looked around again feeling very much as he did when he was a child in this particular room. How he wished his mother was there to wrap him in comfort and make all his hurt go away.

He went to the worn chair near the fire. It was his mother's favorite. He hoped to tell Elizabeth of his mother in this room, sitting in this very chair with him on her lap – his hope was to share everything of his life including all the fond memories of a family he missed desperately. He and Georgianna had been so alone since his parents departed. And, now, dashed forever were his hopes to recreate the loving family he and his sister both longed for.

His father had been correct to stand against even the most innocent charms of passion until he took a spouse with thought and care. He thought of his father's letter which brought suffering and relief after his argument with Elizabeth. What a disillusionment Elizabeth was – he prayed his father forgave him for marrying a woman who had no love to offer but only spite. She could not even respect him enough to remain in his home on their wedding night. He had thought his parents, if present, would adore her as he had done. Perhaps with the wisdom of his father, he would have been more discerning in his choice and not reckless bounded into taking her into his arms and heart. Perhaps he could have chosen someone who would have loved him back.

While shrouded in his mother's chair, Fitzwilliam finally lost himself in grief.

Before the sun-kissed the London sky, Fitzwilliam Darcy exhausted his outward expressions of a loved lost. As he rubbed his uninjured hand over his eyes for the final time, a flash of reflected dying firelight caught an adjacent mirror.

Her wedding ring rested near the stone hearth.

As he retrieved it, he saw the betrothal ring not five paces away.

He held both in the palm of his hand before he closed a squeezing fist over them. He then plucked the letter he had written her from where it still rested on her side of the door. Sighing, he walked back into the room where he placed her wedding ring on the side table nearest her bed and took up the vase of flowers he had ordered to be placed there to greet her arrival. He pressed his face closer to the delicate scent of roses and lavender before sending his carefully planned gesture crashing into the wall.

Wet shards of glass, petals, and his last delicate feeling ran down the smooth silk surface in a mess he did not care to clean-up.

 _Damn the flowers and damn her_.

* * *

The light of the morning was ruthless. Although the curtains of her uncle's carriage were drawn, a crack of light burned her face and marked her shame. The morning after her wedding should be spent in the home of her husband – she knew better. And, she knew the good opinion her husband carried for her could not survive such a slight.

Before she and her Uncle Gardiner exited the carriage, his disapproving mien softened as he squeezed her hand a final time. The walk up the sweeping exterior was so much more daunting with her shame exposed by the morning, but now, despite it all, she wished with everything in her heart to run up each stone riser, find Fitzwilliam Darcy, and beg forgiveness while promising she could deserve his love.

She would have done so at once as her pride had perished the night before to reveal her own abject heart. However, her uncle, who was already disappointed in her, would never permit her acting a fool on a public street. She also supposed her husband would not approve the sentiment.

She lifted her eyes to the butler; she could not recall his name.

"Mrs. Darcy, welcome home. Mr. Darcy has requested you await him in the study. Timmons shall take you forthwith."

Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat. "My niece shall not be removed from my side until I have spoken to Mr. Darcy."

"Sir, Mr. Darcy is not to be disturbed and is not receiving guests. Please let me call your carriage and see you to the door."

"If Mr. Darcy does not wish to face me, then he may find his wife in Gracechurch Street as we both will depart immediately."

The butler's expression was unmoved. "Timmons, please relay the message immediately. Sir, please wait here."

Elizabeth's heart stuttered. What she would give to go back to yesterday morning and take back her despicable actions and hurtful words.

The footman returned shortly a little paler than when he left. "Mrs. Darcy, the master has asked me to show you to the study. Sir, he will attend you here in the foyer momentarily."

Elizabeth looked pleadingly to her uncle and released his hand. "I should go."

He nodded and then embraced her while speaking words only she could hear. "Have faith, my dear. And know we are always here for you if you are ever in need."

She clung to him as she would her father and then removed herself to follow the footman.

Not a moment later, Mr. Darcy appeared from an opposite room. "May I help you?"

"Mr. Darcy." Edward Gardiner executed a bow in the direction of the man so unrecognizable from the previous day. Gone was a joyous and smiling young bridegroom. In his place was a smug, haughty aristocrat with a hard glint in his eyes.

"Pardon me, I do not recall your name." Darcy did not return the bow.

Edward Gardiner was a successful man with a just but hidden harsh side who many deigned not to cross once they learned of his ways either by reputation or from direct experience. After the night he had, he had no wish to deal with the pathetic manners. It was only the slight pity for Mr. Darcy's pride and feelings which clearly suffered from the defection of his wife on his wedding night which kept Gardiner's ire in check.

"I will excuse you on the basis that we only met yesterday morning. I am Mr. Edward Gardiner, Elizabeth's Uncle. I reside in Gracechurch Street, and I came to escort my niece as well as have a private word."

"Yes, well, I must thank you for returning the woman so promptly." His words dripped in disdain.

"Mr. Darcy, I wish to speak to you privately, but I cannot wait to ask that you cease in referring to my niece as you would a lost horse or some other property." Edward Gardiner's words were severe as his patience was over.

Darcy was unperturbed and casually dismissed the servants. But, before he himself walked away, he said, "You have seen her to safety, and I now ask you to leave. We are not home to company… this being our honeymoon time and such. I am sure you understand. Good day."

The older man was incensed – not by Mr. Darcy's words but rather by the flippant manner in which they were uttered. Mr. Gardiner could no longer care this was not his home. He loved his dear niece and would not see her come to harm. He would bodily extract her if needed. He strode further into the room and blocked Darcy from entering a side door. "Sir, I will not leave until you can look me in the eye and vow Elizabeth will not come to harm under your care."

Darcy's anger was still too raw to have his honor called on in such a way, but he was much too bitter to answer with anything other than careless and callous words. "You ask she not be treated as property, but I assure you in the eyes of the law she is now my property in every way. Your niece is now no longer your concern. I will not ask you again to leave my house."

Mr. Gardiner was a good ten years older than Fitzwilliam Darcy and had twice as much experience in the ways of the world. His height was not as great, but he supposed he matched him in strength. None of this was considered though as he reached for the lapels of the younger man's jacket and turned him back into the wall. "Elizabeth is not unprotected in the world no matter who she married and no matter who you are. On behalf of her father and myself, I will have your word that you will uphold the vows you made before her family and God. Young man, you will swear to me now she will not come to any harm. Unlike you, or maybe exactly like you as I have now learned just how my niece's marriage came about, I am no gentleman nor do I pretend to be. I have no qualms to do whatever is required to protect my family, and your legal wife is still more my family than yours and will be until you can deserve her."

For the first time in Fitzwilliam's life, he did not push back and actually wished her uncle would hit him. The physical pain and exertion of a fight were just what he needed. Wisely though, Fitzwilliam stopped short of any further antagonizing words.

When nothing was said, Mr. Gardiner eased back but kept his eyes locked and level. Fitzwilliam, with his own stoic manner, finally bowed and gave the reply which spoke to his honor. "Sir, as my wife, your niece will have every protection afforded to her, and sir, that includes protection from myself. She will not come to harm as my wife. I give you my word."

Darcy was assessed for truth and luckily not found wanting. "Very well. I expect Elizabeth to visit and assure us of her health after you and she have had ample time to come to terms. Our home is always open... to you both." Elizabeth's uncle softened further as he caught a brief and pained expression from his nephew by marriage. "Treat this as a gift, Mr. Darcy. Not many young couples get the opportunity of learning forgiveness so early in marriage before the real work starts. Keep your faith and don't squander this."

With no other words, Edward Gardiner strolled out the front door and gently closed it behind him while Darcy forcefully shut out the words of advice which sounds much too like the ones read in his father's unexpected letter.

* * *

His equanimity was wrecked after such a confrontation, and he lacked the wisdom to let a cooler head prevail before he entered his study.

Instead of seeing the tear-stained face of his wife who was ready to beg forgiveness and plead for the chance to start over, he saw a proud woman who held him in nothing but contempt. She was also the woman who had ripped apart every proper feeling of love by abandoning him and so carelessly discarding the symbols of his troth on her fingers.

The study was where he conducted his business, and he was quite apt at it. When required, he took a hard position… very much like Elizabeth's uncle he would later suppose after a greater acquaintance. Unlike Elizabeth's uncle though he did not have the good sense to leave his business disposition behind when dealing with his wife.

He moved behind his desk, and she was on her feet. "Mr. Darcy – "

"Be silent, madam." The course tenor of his voice pushed her back into the chair. "What I have to say does not require your response."

She opened her mouth but promptly closed it at the look on his face. She had seen him so many times cold and aloof, but she had forgotten the proud, hard way he could hold himself when he felt superior. Even more than that, she saw something akin to the deep aversion she had only seen him wear as he looked at the likes of Caroline Bingley.

She paled and clutched her hands tightly together.

He went on in his speech. "After last night, it is clear there shall be no affection between us. So, I will speak plainly. First, I will not apologize for my actions which led us to this day and wish that subject to be closed. What is done is done, and you may be comforted I shall never again let those thoughtless passions interfere between us again."

He raised his hands to place them on the desk, his injured one now being bandaged by Johnson, and she started forward to examine it. He stalled her with the other hand. "This is not your concern."

"But, you are injured! Please let me –"

"No, your concern is not welcome, Elizabeth!"

He disregarded her as she brushed away the tears which were welling in her eyes. He only saw her chin lift, and in response, he stood to exert authority while renewing his implacable glare.

"As far as our marriage – it is too late to turn the hands of the clock back one day. And, as much as an annulment may be an advantage over being miserable for the rest of our lives, it is not possible. And, further, your family and reputation may be of no consequence, but I assure you mine are. I will not drag the people I love through such an ordeal. This also means our marriage must not incite scandal. It is bad enough we married with such haste. As far as others are concerned, you will do your part to perpetuate the idea we married out of impatient affection. Do you understand?"

Elizabeth was too shocked at the mention of an annulment and the insult to her reputation and family to hear much beyond those words. He seemed to be needing a response to some question but she had none.

"Elizabeth, I expect your agreement! You will not ruin my reputation nor drag my name through the mud any more than mere marriage to you has done. You will not act improperly by leaving my home in the middle of the night. And, in public and around our families, we will act as a married couple should. Madam, I refuse to tolerate your refusal in this."

The hurt of last night came back to weigh on her in full force. It was not that she lacked the courage to respond to his insults and wishes, it was that she lacked the required spite. She knew she deeply hurt him and deserved to hear his terms. However, meekness was not something with which she was well-practiced, and her words sounded more biting than she intended. "Of course. Whatever you wish, sir."

He sat back down, his anger still simmering quite close to the surface. "Very well. As long as you do nothing to sully my name and present a united front when required, I have no care for what you do." His indifference broke her heart although she did not how such a feat was possible.

He stopped and gripped the edge of the table with his useful hand. "I suppose that is not is not quite true. Elizabeth, I expect you to uphold your vow and forsake all others. I have no idea your previous experience with men, but let us not forget what got us into this mess. You will control your actions and whatever desires you have concerning any other. As far as your duties to me, consider them not required. The idea of sharing your bed brings me no pleasure. I cannot imagine having children at present between us. It would be wholly unfair to all involved. Luckily for my family, we do not have an entail."

His speech mortified and wounded her sensibilities; she found justification in the anger which suddenly found its way to her mind, but it was somewhat tempered by the distress she had destroyed what could have been most promising. "I cannot express my regret without sounding trivial. But, I abhor ruining not only our wedding day but this marriage and so obviously your life. If you would have let me speak before now, I could have expressed my apologies in a more eloquent manner. But, sir, if you expect me to go along with this foolishness of living a lie before my family and friends, then you will at the very least respect me. How dare you suggest I would be unfaithful?" She was incredulous at the accusation.

"How am I to know? You allowed my affection on how many occasions? Yet, you wished to take no responsibility in marriage to me. If not for your father forcing you, you would not have married me. Do you not supposed it logical and reasonable to assume your nature, your very character will force you to keep wholly to the bounds of our marriage?"

Elizabeth quietly spoke, her defenses were deserting her. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, you go much too far. So, I am to blame for our predicament? You who claimed to not even be tempted by me? Sir, do not deny you were equally present and instigated every improper behavior. No, it was I who was tempted by you. Do not ridicule my character for being too weak to push you away.

However, I find you are most correct. The past is over and done with. I have no wish to quarrel with you over who carries the greater blame. If you truly think you are being rational, then I shall be the same. If you expect my faithfulness without an attempt at affection, then tell me now, what terms you plan to abide by? Am I to expect the same from you, or shall I be made a fool by being your wife?"

"A fool for being _my_ wife? No, that is my part to play. Since you even appear to be concerned, I shall adhere to the same requirements of faithfulness to the vow I took. If anything, I am a man of my word on principle alone without requiring some manufactured idea of loyalty. I consider my vow proper punishment for being recklessness enough to adhere to my honor instead of walking away from you as you would have wished and clearly stated."

Elizabeth could not stop the tremble of her lips if she had wanted it more than anything else at the moment. There was nothing further to say. If anything, she wished they had said nothing at all. His good opinion was lost, and it was now clear there was nothing to do to regain it. At the very least she could honor him by obeying his wishes and be a good wife in all her other duties. So what if she never became a mother? Had she not always said she would play to perfection the role of doting aunt? Before she completely fell apart in his presence, she clutched her hands for strength and focused on the whites o her knuckles as tried to gather enough wit to excuse herself with some proper decorum.

She was filled with alarm once she realized her rings were scattered somewhere on the floor of her bedchamber. Could she be any more ashamed? Before she could speak, her husband did.

"Mrs. Darcy, please leave me in peace."

This could not be it. She must do as her aunt suggested and try. "Fitzwilliam…" She trailed off, and he refused to meet her eye before turning his back to her.

When he turned around, it was too late.

The door closed behind his wife's back which held a quiet dignity despite their more subdued but no less abominable confrontation. He fell into his chair at a complete loss how to rid himself of the ache deep in his chest.

She was still so beautiful, and he was so awful despite feeling his loathing was partially if not fully justified. But, she showed a degree of fortitude he could not help but admire. If he could get past his own pride, then he had to admit all he wanted to do was to take her in his arms and tell her he loved her anyway. It was okay if she did not – could not – love him. He would settle for her passionate responses. How long had it been since she kissed him at the front door of Longbourn on the day he left for London before their wedding? He missed the feelings her closeness inspired. Yes, he could survive without her true adoration – he just wanted the privilege of loving her.

Before he could either run after her or give way to such a thing as weeping, for he did enough of that last night and planned not to indulge in it ever again if such a thing could be helped, he instead focused on his rationalizing his thoughts as he pushed away his feelings.

Yes, he wanted to love her more than anything, but the last day and night proved it too much of a risk. He was hardly holding himself together after one day. His life would be short if he allowed his feelings to continue.

Late into the night, his mind forced his heart to finally quit. No matter how long it took, he would attempt to seal off every honest emotion evoked by her. What he would not give to travel back six weeks prior just so he could walk out of the library that night at Netherfield Park. What he would not give to never know what it was like to hold and kiss the woman he now loved with every fiber of his broken being.

If he had escaped the fate of that first kiss shared in a dark corner late at night over poetry, he would have overcome his fascination. He could be sitting at his desk as an unmarried man with a bright future ahead not caring even a pittance over Miss Elizabeth Bennet. What could that life have been like if could have only walked away? Would forgetting her really have been so easy? For his own peace of mind, he decided he would have found the strength.

Slowly, he pulled a letter out of his pocket which was addressed 'To My Wife'… the wife from yesterday, the one which did not leave him while stealing every good feeling like a thief in the night.

He pulled out the small circle of precious metal with its intertwined vines which held his own personal words especially for her. He could not bear to return it.

He went to the writing desk he traveled with, unlocked the hidden compartment, and delicately placed the tokens representing what might have been in the bottom of the drawer next to a pretty blue ribbon.

When he locked it back, he whispered to himself. "No more."

* * *

 **A/N:** Goodness… that was much too painful, but I had to finish the torture. My sincere apologies for being tardy and for this story being at such a sad point. These characters are both worthy of being knocked upside the head for being so ridiculous. However, as much as I own the words and how they are ordered, the story owns itself – can't change much if I tried.

I promise this is as low as it gets. They've hit bottom and now reach a turning point. Oh, and I'm fairly certain there is a kiss in the next chapter! And, it happens at Matlock - cue the fun relatives. (I heart C.F.)

Thank you for all the reviews from the last chapter. I can't tell you how much your words mean.

Again, this is not beta'd. I fail at proofreading anything I write myself, so I own all the typos and dumb mistakes that will make me cringe as I reread several weeks from now. [Insert picture of Billy Mack cringing at his own number one Christmas Record in Love Actually.]

 _Update:_ An early review brought up something I want to address. In the prologue, Darcy mentions putting the demands of children upon Elizabeth on the day after his wedding. I took the liberty of revising that because I found I could not stick to my original outline! He was supposed to be indifferent to the point that he only requested fidelity until they would have children in the future, and then she could carry on with whoever she wished once they were done. It seemed too spiteful. Sorry, I have not incorporated any revisions on this site. But, thanks MissPhryneFisher for pointing this out!


	27. Chapter 27

The cold rain which accompanied her wedding returned to relentlessly pour upon London for a full three days since her return to Darcy house. Elizabeth was not one to remain caged between four walls, but she did not have the strength to search for a more desirable alternative. She would not know who to seek out in the house anyhow.

Her maid had allowed her privacy. And, without asking, Mrs. Ellis personally brought her trays of food which remained mostly untouched. The woman had not deigned to speak much though she carried in her face a gentle kindness. Elizabeth was polite and thanked her graciously but did not wish to engage her further. She was too preoccupied in self-reflection.

She despised what was presented back in the reflection of her behavior.

Somehow, since the fated night Mr. Darcy caught her alone in Nether field's library, she had lost her way. She lost her way so greatly she was now a married woman to a man she had not seen since the morning after her wedding. She did not know if he still resided in the same house – no one had said, and she did not dare ask. As much as she would not fault him for it, it would be too much to bear knowing he had fled her presence in the same manner she had his.

As much as she wished to go back and undo everything, she knew it not to be possible, and therefore the wish was not worthy of wasting. Instead, during her times of wakefulness – often wrapped in a cover overlooking the slow-moving street through a rain-streaked window, she examined every instance and every interaction with Mr. Darcy from the beginning and from every possible vantage. When from exhaustion she could stand no longer and would curl into the soft mattress for a small stretch of sleep, her mind would recall the strength she had once felt in his embrace – her eyes would dry, her mind clearing for a few hours of blank stillness.

 _The next time Elizabeth woke she felt a warm streak of morning sunshine on her face and inhaled a subdued hint of lemon and something musky but strangely enticing. A heavy warmth covered the spot just over her navel. She realized the same lavish comfort was along her back reaching down to her toes. She curled into it further willing her eyes to remain closed luxuriating in the contentment and solace she felt to her bones._

 _A true smile which had been absent for so long welled in her heart before it overtook her face. The peace radiating from the warmth was infectious and she was desperate to latch on to it. The penetrating joy overwhelmed her to a degree that her current suffering could not enter her mind to afflict her new-found serenity._

 _At the feeling of a breath on her neck, she sighed instead of starting, and with a great inexplicable happiness and want, she pressed closer before she turned over to open her eyes. Strangely, without the slightest bit of discomfort, she met the face of her husband. Nothing had ever seemed so inherent – all the strife had burned away to nothing._

 _The sun cast a honeyed ray upon the tendril which rested at his forehead. How she loved that unruly lock. She moved to capture it and smooth it back into his soft hair, but he was quicker as he opened his own eyes and encased her hand with his own gently pinning it to the pillow next to her head._

 _They laughed. And, then he lowered a kiss to her lips. He traced a line of softness to her ear with his mouth. "My dear Lizzy, I shall die a happy man if I can wake just like this every day for the next fifty years."_

 _If it were possible for a woman to melt into a bed of down feathers, she would have done so at the intensity of his hushed voice. "And, I shall be the most happy of women to be loved so completely."_

 _"And, completely loved you shall be." With that, Elizabeth felt the most natural settling of his entire person over hers. She could never recall such intense feelings of rapture. He kissed and kissed her while all else ceased until a deep sound shook the very bed._

She bolted upright. Cold and alone.

She felt all around her. She was clothed – it was a sad sort of shocking.

It was dark. The morning had not come. There was no sunshine. The rain was beating hard against the windows. The walls shook with the booms, and the houses across the street were illuminated through the curtains by a brilliant flash of lightning.

It was just a storm. And, it was just a dream. There was no warmth and no kiss from a contented man covering her body.

She blushed madly at the remembrance which was so very real, and she caught her breath as she tried to not focus on the sentiments which were coursing through her.

She had finally dreamed, and now she was bereft. And, this time she thought it too much to bear. She would not remain in bed a moment longer after an unconscious pleasure so beautifully tormenting.

She lit a candle and went to stir the fire back to the life. A lifetime of not enough servants gave way to tending her own hearth. She had practice enough she need not call a servant for such a trivial thing... even if there were a small army waiting to do even the most simplistic of tasks. The remaining hours of the night, she sat gazing out the window willing herself to not focus on would never be. Oh yes, she was the author of that particular future. She may as well accept the truth now before self-preservation was too late.

At half-past seven, the rain abated, and for the first time in several days she rang for her maid and requested breakfast be prepared and served wherever it normally was prior to her presence in the house. After she was bathed and was a bath ever so welcome after spending three days in the same muslin rail, she found herself decked in a comfortable day dress intending to search out the smell of ham and freshly baked bread. She left Tabitha to see to freshening the stale room after assuring her she would be fine making her way into the house on her own.

As the sun gleamed off the banister and polished treads, she declared she would ignore the stateliness of the grand stair and simply use it for the intended purpose. One slippered step in front of the other. Though she was humbled greatly and nervous as she had ever been, she was determined to hold her head high despite not being comfortable in surroundings so new and different.

A familiar face was crossing her path at the bottom of the steps and she rushed the rest of the way being careful not to trip and tumble. "Mr. Johnson?"

Mr. Darcy's valet slowly turned and bowed, face knowing but unexpressive with shoulders broad and back. She looked in his eyes and managed to keep her voice even. "Good Morning, Mr. Johnson."

"Good morning, Mrs. Darcy. May I help you?"

She bit her lip, praying not to blush. How odd this was now her home and she had no idea as to where to go. "Sir, would it be too much for you to show me where breakfast is served?"

She saw his eyes relax in a way which strangely reminded her of her father. At that reverie, she recalled she had felt the same when they spoke at Netherfield in the library one evening. For the first time in many days… and not in a dream, her genuine smile appeared.

"I can call a footman to escort you if you would wish."

"No, you will do Mr. Johnson. Unless you are in a rush, of course. If so, then please do not let me detain you."

"I am not in a rush, Mrs. Darcy. Please allow me to lead you. I assume you have not been given a tour as of yet."

She stopped as they passed an open door of what appeared to be a charming sitting room. She bowed her head. "I think you know very well I have not seen the house in its entirety."

He looked at the poor girl. His ire for her abominable actions which put Fitzwilliam into such a spiral was rapidly fading with each fidget she made with the fingers she clutched together in front of her. When she finally lifted her head to look him the eye again, this time with bravery despite the shame, he wished to give her a little pat on the back. She was contrite, but she would not be cowed before a servant. Her look was not defiant or daring. It was an honest acknowledgement of the situation in which both were intimately familiar. "Mr. Johnson, may I please have a word?" She gestured to the sitting room.

She shuffled away from the open door and drew further into the room before she turned to speak. "How does he fare?"

Theodore Johnson raised his brows and did not attempt to hide his wonder at her plain-spoken question.

His expression called upon her guilt. Who was she to have concern for someone she treated so harshly?

He adjusted his face and eventually caught her attention with a gentle smile. "Madam, he has seen better times, but he has not taken excessively to the bottle nor has he jumped from his window. He is, however, one to roll around in his thoughts in solitude, but that is just who he has always been, and I have known him since they day his dear mother brought him into this world. Have some patience. And, if I may further add, _I_ appreciate your concern."

"Thank you for being candid."

"Of course, you are the mistress. Are you not? Everyone in this house is your concern, would you not agree?"

She snapped her eyes up to an all-familiar sardonic expression. "I suppose – "

"I am sure Mrs. Ellis and her staff are waiting for your direction the moment you wish to take your place."

Elizabeth placed a hand against her chest, an unsure feeling sweeping through her. "I do not think it is appropriate for me given the current situation – "

"Madam." His tone was strident, but he settled into a more placid posture. "I feel it is incumbent for me to explain, so I beg your forgiveness in being so bold. Your current situation is your own and Mr. Darcy's. As far as the staff is concerned, they have a household to run and new mistress to please. Any situation to which you are referring is not discussed among us, and no opinions have been colored in any way so bad. You may also take comfort in the fact there has been no gossip from the home of any neighbor concerning the day after your wedding." He gave her a knowing look, and then he continued, "Occasionally, Mrs. Darcy, it is wise to temporarily put aside certain matters which cannot be immediately resolved and see to other matters as one means to go along."

She was not put out by his meaning nor was she offended a servant spoke to her so. Instead, she felt she had an additional thing for which to be foolish. She truly well had nowhere to turn as to the subject of what to do with herself, so she took a chance in speaking just as candidly and prayed she was not mistaken in the trust she was placing in Mr. Darcy's own personal servant. "I did not mean to be so remiss in my duties, but, Mr. Johnson, I cannot think to gain loyalty so early given what everyone in this house must know. And, I dare not overstep… I can barely compose my – well, these past few days have not given over to understanding what is expected of me." Elizabeth was fully blushing in admitting she was lost.

"Your maid has not been here so long, so she could not have been expected to encourage you where needed, and no one has wished to press you. But, as far as loyalty, you had it the moment you became wife to Mr. Darcy. The staff here has waited a very long while for a proper mistress. They are eager to please, and I am sure if you were to ask to meet Mrs. Ellis, you would gladly be received as soon as convenient to you."

"Truly?" She looked to assess the truth his face and was hopeful for what she saw. It was kindness.

"Truly, Mrs. Darcy."

"I cannot thank you enough. You are a good man, Mr. Johnson. I cannot expresses my gratitude."

"I have done nothing. If you are ready for breakfast, ma'am?" He inclined his head toward the door.

Elizabeth nodded and walked through the door with Mr. Johnson following. He took the lead to the breakfast room and pointed out several other important rooms along the way. When they stopped at a pair of doors, he turned to her. "Mrs. Darcy, I wished to tell you there is a large still room off the kitchens. I am sure anything you would like can be procured easily. The staff may stare a little at first, but they would keep your presence below stairs from being discussed outside the house if such was a concern to you."

Elizabeth was incredulous that Mr. Darcy's valet would know anything of her hobbies. She loved to be in the still room. And, no, she certainly did not give two cares about who may know she enjoyed working with plants and medicinals when she could spare the time.

Mr. Johnson further inclined his head to quietly add, "The salve you provided Mr. Darcy in Meryton when he injured his hand would be very helpful now if it can easily be prepared." He righted himself and raised a brow awaiting a response.

Despite being stricken with concern, she formally replied as a footman bustled by giving her a glimmer of a smile and deferential nod. "Yes, of course, I will prepare it as quickly as it may be arranged. Again, I thank you for telling me of the still room."

As she worried over her husband's inexplicable injury, she went to face whatever breakfast may hold wondering if the man himself would be behind the doors. Her fluttering heart was more disappointed than relieved to only find two ready and waiting footman.

As she seated herself, she thought on the mild manner of Mr. Johnson. She could hardly explain or understand how insightful he had been. He had every right to despise her in defense of her husband, yet he was helpful and calming. She took it to heart. She may not have her father, her Jane, and the rest of her brash but loving family, but she felt now in addition to her maid, she had made a friend. She did not care it was Mr. Darcy's most trusted servant. She was desperate for anything resembling familial care. And, she would gladly take it from one who in some ways reminded her of the most caring man in her life, her father.

She had taken the advice of Mr. Johnson and sought out the housekeeper immediately after breakfast that first day after emerging from her bed chamber. Things started awkwardly at first, but by the end of the first day, Mrs. Ellis had given her a tour of every room in the house except the library and study. And though it was quite trying for her, Elizabeth had been introduced formally to most of the servants. She had done her best to not think what _they_ may think of her. However, she was eventually made comfortable by the kind and excited staff. She immediately loved them wholeheartedly for being willing to overlook the station from which she ascended and the low behavior which she had exhibited toward the man who kept them in his care.

Most did not directly mention Mr. Darcy or her marriage, and she was grateful for it. But, it was evident her husband was greatly held in much esteem by those in his employ, and Elizabeth was made more ashamed because of it. His servants had been so obviously indebted for his care and protection, yet she had disdained it. And, he had offered her everything in making her the mistress of his home.

During the day, she worked diligently with the staff and could not contain her enjoyment when Mrs. Ellis let her have rule over the sill room on the lower floor. No one more than looked twice as she passed the outskirt of the kitchen.

She had passed by the music room so many times but could not comprehend calling attention to herself by playing. She went directly to her chamber after dining alone in the evening. She spent her time at night focused on making notes of her day and preparing plans for the next day. She thought to busy herself in every way the housekeeper would allow. She prayed the knocker would remain off the door. It was a saving grace most well-mannered people thought not to disturb a newly wedded couple in their home. There were, of course, times she heard the butler, surprisingly a man named Mr. Ellis, allow guests into the entryway only to send them out again.

One day, as she was keeping to herself and working below stairs on various scented waters and ointments to be included in the Boxing Day baskets Mrs. Ellis had finally given over to Elizabeth's care, there was heard a great commotion coming from above. She unwrapped her apron and started for the corridor when the housekeeper appeared, a little worse for the wear, and told Elizabeth all was well.

It went surprisingly quiet, but she was certain she had heard some screeching over an unmistakable male voice and thought to investigate whether or not her husband may appreciate her interference.

The kindly housekeeper, with her grey hair, strong stature, and motherly words, placed an arm around her young mistress directing her back into the room. "My dear, I am sure it would do well for you to remain as you are."

Elizabeth was unconvinced. "Mrs. Ellis, while I appreciate your suggestion, I do believe as mistress of this house, a role you have done nothing but encourage me to, I should seek out trouble and do my best to alleviate it. I am sure I heard the front entry open and raised voices."

The screeching again was heard, and Mrs. Ellis raised a hand to her forehead. "Oh, lord and heavens above."

Elizabeth thought the way Mrs. Ellis sighed and threw her hand over her forehead was boarding on the theatrics which reminded her of her mother and Lydia. She gave a little laugh at the thought which settled into a faraway smile. How she missed her family! Her heart turned again in gratitude toward the very woman who was by her side muttering something not sounding at all like the kind words which usually came out of her mouth.

Elizabeth was given a sideways glance by the housekeeper which made Elizabeth laugh in truth.

"Well, my dear Mrs. Darcy, I must say your laugh is just lovely. I am so glad to finally hear it."

"I am afraid flattery and theatrics, Mrs. Ellis, will not distract me from my purpose. But, if you know anything as to what is happening above stairs, I would be grateful for your advance warning! Shall I ask for your brave escort since you seem to know exactly what is afoot?" Elizabeth gave the woman a brilliant smile and arched her brow in challenge.

Mrs. Ellis laughed with her mistress despite the happenings elsewhere in the house. "Oh my, I see now he was so taken with you, charming girl. Master Fitzwilliam was correct in you being an impertinent darling of a thing!"

Elizabeth faltered and borrowed her work table for support. She looked down and could not catch her breath.

"Mrs. Darcy, you must forgive me, please. We do not always stand on formality here at Darcy house. Of course, we always do when such is called for. You must forgive my speaking to you in such a way. It will not happen again, ma'am."

After several moments of silence and composure not yet regained, Elizabeth walked to the housekeeper and took her hand, wishing to embrace her just as she had always done with Hill. "Oh, Mrs. Ellis. I beg you never think you must stand on formality with me when it is just us. Our housekeeper at home was as a second mother to me. I treasured that relationship, and I cannot tell you how much you have come to mean to me in this past week. I was just taken so by your words. Did he… he said such things of me?"

The older woman instantly understood what had beset her mistress, and being the childless mother figure of everyone as she was, she went to lock the still room door and then engulfed her mistress allowing the lonely young woman to cling to her. "Yes, my dear girl, he said that and so much more. I do believe he loves you very much. I have known him for so long and think of him as more a son than anything. I know these things."

"You truly think he loved me?" Elizabeth softly cried into the woman's shoulder.

Mrs. Ellis knew it was really not her place to say it again, for she had already said too much. Her mistress and master needed to find the truth for themselves.

The young bride was so lost to the grief of her own making, all further disturbance above stairs was drowned out, and Elizabeth certainly did not hear the front door slam and instructions barked to never allow Lady Catherine entrance on so much as the front steps of his home ever again.

* * *

That night Elizabeth did not find sleep which had not been so unusual as of late. It had been not quite a fortnight since her wedding. After the night of the storm in which she first dreamed of a loving husband, she did everything she could to expend her energy to stave off any such reoccurrence. She immersed herself in the new found duties of Darcy House which were beginning to produce some gratification as well as distraction. She was never fond of being idle, and the activity had managed to slightly renew her spirit. She also attempted correspondence but found she could only manage the barest of notes since she did not have the heart to put lies to paper. She read the books she brought with her but found they could not keep her attention.

Still, as much as she tried to occupy her mind into exhaustion, similar variations of that first dream kept apace until Elizabeth finally gave up on rest altogether. She knew after her emotional afternoon spent being consoled by what must be the sweetest woman divinely sent to her in the form of a housekeeper, she would not dare to tempt her mind with sleep.

It was well after midnight, and to keep her sanity, she donned her warmest gown, took a stand of candles, and made her way to the ballroom. She was intent to set about her most recent task of preparing the baskets for those who served and serviced Darcy House. It was in the oversized and underutilized room she had laid out all of the baskets over the polished wood floor. Scattered about in an organized fashion were the items she could use to fill those baskets in advance. She thought if she was not to sleep, she would put herself to use.

After kindling a lone fire closest to her work area, she sat down to start sorting the vials of scented water she created for the maids and tradesman's wives. As she was counting and making notes in her journal.

 _…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen –_

A great clatter of metal sounded behind her. Hair wildly unbound and eyes still red-rimmed, her head turned to the sound.

She had not seen him in more than a full week. He stood there, breaches, barefoot, and an open shirt. His hair was tousled, his jaw covered with dark stubble, and in his eyes was a seizure of alarm. He had never looked so beautifully awful. Without permission, her heart ached for him.

When he looked away deliberately and without a word, she could no longer breathe from the hurt nor could she remove here stare. She wished to go to him and throw herself at his feet in petition. She apprehended what a great fool she was, and she was long past the point of admitting she missed him so much. Recently she realized she had been terribly impatient while he was in London for the few days before their wedding, and now they were married and living as strangers in the same house. How she pined as she despised herself.

He spun on his heel to walk away. The foil which had dropped from his hand still lay upon the floor.

"Wait." It was hardly a whisper on her breath.

She looked back to the door where he had moments ago stood, and prayed for his shadow to again reappear where it had been but moments before.

Gaining her senses, she stood up to give him a deep curtsey. He did not acknowledge it but kept his eyes trained at the window behind her.

Finally, he bent to retrieve his weapon, and when he welded it again in his hand, he finally looked at her with no forbearance in his face. It was frightening. "My apologies. I came thinking this room would not be in use. I will leave you."

This she could not countenance. They occupied the same house, yet she never saw him. They could continue like this. He could despise her all he wished, but she would not tolerate him as a prisoner in his own home.

"Please… please do not. I can leave if you do not want to speak with me or see me. But, please do not allow me to keep you from your own home any longer. I will leave altogether if you desire it. I can go to my uncle, or you can send me away wherever you wish. But, I plead with you to cease in permitting my presence to keep you locked away in your library or study or wherever it is you have been seeking shelter from me. I cannot allow it any longer."

"Do not think so much of yourself that you can allow or not allow me anything. And, further, we have discussed you leaving, and I will not accept my name becoming any more fodder for gossip. You have no understanding of the place my name holds in Society nor the station in which you now reside. How can my precious sister, who is innocent in all this, make her debut when her most immediate family is subject to scandal because you cannot stand to remain in my presence? So, as much as it may pain you, your duty is to remain here with me. You will have to suffer through it as best you can."

"No, you mistake me entirely."

"Well, you will have to excuse me. It seems that I have done nothing but misunderstand you completely through the whole of our acquaintance."

Such was said with a callousness which made Elizabeth wince further and hold her eyes open wide to keep any moisture from falling. She sat again on the floor turning back to her task. She had tried, failed, and did not have enough spirit left for another quarrel.

"Why are you here at this time of night?" He took a step into the room.

"Sir, I now live here and have discovered there is an expectation of presiding as mistress of your fine house whether or not you or I wish it to be so. I will not be remiss and hide away – it would not be fair to your staff." She did not like defending herself in the midst of losing her self-control lest she act recklessly and say things which she did not mean, but she would speak plainly when addressed.

If her words chastised her husband for hiding himself away for the better part of a fortnight, she did not notice. A little too harshly, he said, "I did not ask you to perform any duty."

"No, you have not." She gripped the small glass bottle tightly in her hand. Working with the staff had saved her from all-encompassing despair these past several days. "Do you wish me to cease, sir?"

Darcy, exhausted with himself and his feelings, took a seat on the floor not too far away and rubbed his temples. "What is it exactly you are doing? It is late, and you should be in your bed." He felt his ears warm when the unbidden thought of her in her bed flashed in his mind. To cover up his reaction to his unintentional thought, he spoke rapidly. "What is all of this? Why are not the servants doing this work?"

"Because, sir, these are _for_ the servants, and the tradesmen's families, and anyone else on Mrs. Ellis's list. I requested that I be allowed to manage the gifts for Boxing Day, with her suggestions, of course, since it is she who knows their needs." Elizabeth became wistful at the thought of Christmastide.

"My mother insisted us girls manage the holiday boxes at Longbourn for our servants and tenants. She told us any gift of gratitude for their hard year's work be from our own family's hands and thoughtfulness. It gives me great delight to do this." Elizabeth looked around to the spread around her. There were small wooden toys, fabrics of utility, and dried herbs among other things of use.

The people receiving these gifts were not ones she knew well yet, but she would eventually expect to know their needs just as her mother expected her to know the needs of those who depended on Longbourn.

She gave a mirthless laugh. "You know, my mother is overly loud, and I would even go as far to say vexingly obnoxious. She embarrassed me countless times in public… especially after she pushed us into society. But, do you know why I and just about everyone else tolerates her?" Elizabeth wasn't looking at her husband as she spoke. She was absentmindedly undoing all of the sorting she had done before Mr. Darcy's appearance.

He did not answer her question, so she continued. "It is because my mother has a caring and generous nature deep within her. She may be a trial at times with her vexing and crass manners. She will always boast over her fortune for some things like Jane's beauty or Lydia's lively nature, and she will endlessly torment her family over with her nerves complaints, but she never so much as mentions the good she does for her neighbors." Elizabeth shook her head at this revelation. "If she were here, she would be assisting me and shoo-ing any servant from the room who tried to intervene. She would no doubt be driving me to bedlam and scolding me for being in a ballroom in nothing but a dressing gown, but she would take great satisfaction in all of this. I have learned a great deal from her."

Despite hating the woman who sat across from him, he loved to listen to her ramble her thoughts aloud. He loved the way her wrapper wanted to fall from her shoulder, and he loved how the fire was casting blazing shades off her tumbling locks.

He loved that despite having no direction nor permission from him, she still took it upon herself to rise to the challenge of being a mistress to his home despite the uncertainty. And though he did indeed hate her for turning his life on its head, he still loved her so.

 _How can this be? Perhaps_ , he thought, _love and hate are not mutually exclusive_? _Perhaps that is how she feels about her mother_ … or, p _erhaps not_. He really did not believe Elizabeth capable of possessing the spirit to truly hate. He almost huffed to himself at the unfairness of it. If he could really believe she hated him and not merely despised him, then it would be easier to hate her.

"May I assist you, Elizabeth?"

She gave him a suspicious assessment. "I could not ask it of you."

"I am not so very tired. And, surprisingly, I admit to finding conviction in your mother's views. I have always left this to my housekeepers, but I now see I should make a contribution."

"Contribution? I think all of this is really your contribution."

"No, all of this is just an insignificant entry on a ledger that I do not even make myself, just merely review. You said your mother required thoughtfulness. The unforeseen wisdom of Mrs. Bennet has convicted me, indeed. Pray, give me something to do."

The small smile on her face uncovered the barest of feelings in his chest which he had fought valiantly to repress since their wedding night. He was quickly aware of the warmth and reminded himself it was nothing to be hopeful about.

"Very well, sir." She stood waved him to take her place. "Separate each small bottle and jar by the color of ribbon tied at the top; count them, and then we will place them in the correct basket. I will sort some fabric while you do this."

"And, what exactly are these?"

"Oh…," she stammered. Clearly, she was uncomfortable for some reason. "Just scented water and some tonics, and such."

An idea crossed his mind of something his valet had said when they were both at Netherfield, and he thought of the familiar salve which Johnson had demanded to apply to his nearly broken hand for the past several days – it was healing quite nicely. "Did you make these?"

"Yes, I did."

She was a woman of interesting talents, his wife. He looked to the yellow skin of his knuckles – yes his hand was mending well enough for him to try his foil, which was why he came to the ballroom. He desperately needed to exercise his demons after sequestering himself for so long. He looked again to his hand, opening up his fist. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

She nodded, went to pile of fabrics, and sat down to her own chore. They worked in silence for a long time. When he had completed the sorting, he asked for new direction, and then they would go back to being industrially silent.

A distant clock struck two chimes, and he looked to Elizabeth and saw her yawn. He wondered if his face showed the wear as hers did. He had not even bothered to look in a mirror. God save him for how he smelled. He had all but locked himself in his study, taking his meals there – well, what he ate of them anyhow. He slept there, paced there, and silently raged there. He only stepped out twice, and that was only because Mr. Johnson threatened to bring in Mrs. Ellis. No amount of bellowing had deterred the man.

The other time he had left had been when he had heard Lady Catherine earlier that day. _The damned devil of a woman._ With the assistance of his uncle, he thought he had already come to terms with his aunt in the days before his wedding. Instead, she arrived shouting for the whole house to hear. Elizabeth must have heard – should he say something now? Perhaps she would ask if she wanted to know, or maybe someone had already enlightened her to harridan which was his Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

He felt himself fill with rage again and started to count in his mind to calm himself. He would have to discuss her preposterous threat of bringing a claim against him with his uncle and his solicitors. They could examine the issue over the holiday as they had much in the way of business to go over anyhow.

 _Holidays. Matlock. Business_. How could he be so negligent? Well, truthfully, he knew exactly why he had let his normal duties slip as of late, and he was now looking directly at her.

"Elizabeth?"

She did not so much even flinch.

"Elizabeth."

Now she jumped.

Why did the timber of his voice have to always be so harsh? She was weary, he could see it on her face as she looked for him to get to the point.

"I have had a message from my Uncle Henry. You do recall meeting him at… you do recall meeting him?"

"Yes, I recall meeting all of your family."

"Very good. He wrote and requested I attend a dinner the night after next on his behalf. And, truly, it concerns some matters of business which I have an interest in as well. He said he would make his excuses if we could not be there, given we were just married. But, I find it really is my duty to go if you will be willing."

She did not know what to say. She was adjusting within Darcy House, but to step out and begin the lie of a tolerable marriage? It was almost too much to ask... almost. "I will."

"Good."

He stood awkwardly not knowing how to broach the next subject. "I will request Georgianna's dressmaker attend you tomorrow as soon as may be."

"I hardly think – " She started, but his palm forestalled further speech.

He could see a rebellious look about her. How a woman could resent finery was beyond him. He did not know so much about female tastes, but he knew his sister and cousin became moon-eyed over a pretty silk.

"We are attending on behalf of my Uncle, the Earl of Matlock. You have nothing I have seen which will represent you well enough. This will also be the first time Society looks upon you. I do not put so much value personally into looks, but you must do whatever is necessary to improve the way in which you present yourself outside of this house. You cannot fathom the company in which you are about to subject yourself. It suffices to say that we will be the lowest station in comparison to others at this small dinner – it is not equivalent to the backwater affairs to which you are accustomed."

Elizabeth did not particularly enjoy the feelings of inadequacy, but she suppressed the feeling of temper which was beginning to flourish. And, though she had strong feelings of disdain for his high and haughty demands and hurtful words concerning her person, she supposed she must go along with his dictate. Thus, Elizabeth gave her consent to a new dress or two despite thinking him unfeeling and insufferable.

How her sentiments changed so quickly when he opened his mouth was something Elizabeth set out to ponder later. Perhaps if she held on to these uncharitable feelings she could achieve a dreamless sleep.

"Additionally, Elizabeth, you will need to speak to the dressmaker about some gowns for Matlock – my aunt holds a masque for 'Twelfth Night. We will leave on the Saturday prior to Christmas. If you like we can stay overnight in Meryton on our journey so you may spend a day with your family."

Her mind was in a tumble. Did she not get a say in their plans for the season? Matlock – as in Derbyshire? A masquerade ball? She had never been to a formal one. Longbourn? Did she want to spend time with her family? Jane and her father would take one look at her and demand an accounting of her troubles. Jane may even be moved to intercede.

Knowing her father had threatened her husband with violence once before, she could not chance the man she loved the most in the world seeing her so unhappy. And, he would most likely try to intrude on her behalf. She was thankful her aunt and uncle promised their secrecy once she wrote a note explaining all was now well as could be expected.

"No, I do not prefer to stop at Longbourn or at Netherfield nor anywhere near Meryton."

Darcy was not sure if he was relieved by this or unsettled she would not wish to see her family at Christmas. He was desperate to see his sister and assumed Elizabeth would feel the same about hers. "Then we shall not stop. As far as the duration of our stay in Matlock and our plans after, I cannot tell you as of yet. I do not wish to stay in London for the Season, and so I would ask that you prepare your things knowing we may not return to London for some months."

As much as he had stirred her anger in being so commanding, he also stirred her sadness. She would very much miss those she had come to know at Darcy House. Perhaps she could persuade him to allow her to come back to London on her own.

She then thought better. No, he had already made his thoughts clear on her leaving him for the time being. She dare not ask.

"Well, I think we have accomplished much for tonight. Come, let us to bed."

She stilled at his words, and the ribbons she had held in her hand fluttered to the ground as a warm feeling fused through her. Surely he did not mean… No, by the red skin under glowing under several day's growth of the rough hair on his face, she guessed his words did not have those implications.

He stammered only a moment. "I only mean it is time for each of us to retire. I have things to see to in the morning, and you will have an appointment as soon as can be arranged. Come."

Her hands went to smooth her hair as he went to collect the sword which was unsheathed and now lay upon a table. He did not offer his arm, but she quietly followed behind, one hand over her chest grasping the softness of her dressing gown where it was apt to open on its own accord.

All at once they were standing by her closed door. She studied his face. The roiling under her breast proved her disquiet. They had not the best of times this night, but it had been something of a start. Somewhere while following him up the stairs, she felt her indignation at his comments over her appearance fade away only to be replaced the inexplicable desire to be the one to fall on her pride first.

Standing before him, both of them so informally attired and plainly wearing the hurt of the past days upon their exhausted faces, everything faded but the need to extend her hand to his showing him just how sorry she was. She felt the courage swell and looked at his face from under her own heavy lids.

He wordlessly drew her in just as he had so many times before – she was now entirely aware of the power he wielded over her. For the first time in all their shared experiences, she wanted to be the one to kiss him first. If she could pour all her feelings into her actions, then perhaps he could understand the things she could not yet put into words.

She ungrasped the fabric of her gown she had clutched in her hand and stood proudly in front of him willing him to give at least the hint of a welcome. Bravely, she stepped forward.

He took a step back and leveled a look on her which cemented her mortification in his rejection. As quickly as she could, she disappeared through her door.

Fitzwilliam slept in his bed for the first time since his marriage to Elizabeth – alone as he ever had been. Sleep had not come, and he was haunted again by a woman who was now his wife. He cursed her for having a hold that he could not shake. What had she meant by looking at him with such feeling before she ran behind the safety of her door? He had been shaken when she approached not understanding what she was about.

At some point before dawn after wrestling his heart, he determined he was ready to start again in the strange, new world of torment which he had brought upon himself.

* * *

Elizabeth was in the downstairs sitting room she had begun to favor since emerging from her own rooms in Darcy House. Its décor and colors were calming and tastefully pleasing. She would go in there to sit and appreciate the view over the back gardens. It was colder now and there were not so many blooms along the winding gravel paths outside, but she thought it would be a delightful refuge come spring once the happy flowers were drawn out by better weather.

Today, however, all of the room's charm was lost. She stood on a footstool for what seemed like the longest time amidst what must be miles of silks, muslins, wools, and some orange hideous flimsy gossamer she would outright refuse to have pinned to her body.

Elizabeth was not at her best while being fitted for new dresses in Meryton or at her Aunt's dressmaker in Cheapside, so now when she was acting as a living pin cushion to a French general of fashion hailing from Bond Street who silenced her every protest, her manners were hardly holding themselves together. She was trying for something at least gratitude knowing she should be thankful for the effort, but success had not won the morning yet.

Her sympathy went out to all the hard working seamstresses who must have dropped all of their current orders to attend Darcy House. But, why should she receive so much precedence? When Madame Jean André began to list every dress in the order to her closest assistant, Elizabeth had reached the end of her patience.

Her ability to keep to a calm, rational manner had already been worn ragged from her experience during breakfast several hours previous. Mr. Darcy was seated at the table when she arrived earlier in the morning, cup of tea and newspaper in hand. They spoke no more to each other than a civil good morning. His face appeared as haggard as it had the night before, but now he was clean shaven and dressed impeccably. She was so unable to concentrate much less take much sustenance. His rejection the night before at her door had been painful even if not unexpected. She could not much bare to sit in the room with him.

Now, hours later, hungry and ill-tempered, she was obviously being made over to be a lady of ton. It was obvious this was at her husband's command. He had set this immediate appointment which was becoming more of a trial to endure as each minute ticked by.

Elizabeth called to Tabitha who was across the room and settled at the settee doing her best to stay out of the way of the imposing modiste and the army of assistants. The maid's worried look proved she had come to know her mistress well in such a short time.

"Tabitha, could you find Mrs. Ellis and ask for a light repast to be set up in the drawing room for Madame Jean André and her staff? They have been working tirelessly these several hours and deserve some nourishment and a respite before we continue on."

Tabitha made to leave when Elizabeth stopped her. "Tabitha, will you please escort everyone out now and send Mrs. Ellis to me after she has seen to our guests?" She turned to the paragon of ladies' fashion to invite her to take refreshment but was met with a forestalling refusal.

The French woman spoke in a heavy accent, "I assure you Mrs. Darcy, we do not require any hospitality."

Elizabeth looked to the weary faces of the Madame's staff. "Please, I ask you not only for your own comfort but my own, and theirs." She gave a kindly smile to the young girl of no more fifteen who was busy measuring lengths of a shimmering gold silk.

Elizabeth received a disapproving look from the older woman in return for her kindness, and Elizabeth thought she ought to give a reprimand, but her quarrel truly was not with the modiste, for she was only performing the services she was no doubt amply paid to do as quickly as may be.

Once everyone gave up their protests and finally quit the room, Elizabeth tried to step down but found all movement restricted by sharp little pricks down her side. _Blast it all. S_ he was a prisoner on her perch, and the bars were in the form little metal pins and a surprisingly soft purple silk. She had been standing for such a long time already, so surly just a little longer could not be such a trial.

Mrs. Ellis found her way to the sitting room with a pot of tea on a serving cart.

"Oh thank you, Mrs. Ellis. You are a sight for sore eyes… and sore feet. Is everyone settled in the drawing room for a bit?"

Mrs. Ellis responded they were all happily situated with some tarts the cook had made to excess the evening before. She poured a cup of tea and took it to her mistress after said mistress explained she was unable to move and unwilling to undo the Madame's hard work.

"If you would, Mrs. Ellis, please see they remain where they are for at least a quarter of an hour or so. I find I need some time to regain my tranquility – I am not one who can remain still under the scrutiny of others for such a period of time."

"Of course dear, are you sure I cannot free you from those pins? Surely it will not take much time to secure them again."

"Oh, no. No, indeed. I will endure if it means I do not have to go through this process more than required. But, I thank you all the same." Elizabeth quelled a little at her next request, but she intended to proceed and get to the bottom of all of this fashion havoc with the one person she deemed responsible. "Mrs. Ellis, is my husband still about? If so, can you please send him to me as soon as he is available?"

"Certainly, ma'am." The housekeeper did not show her surprise, but she was certain this was the first instance Mrs. Darcy had actually requested the master's presence of her own will.

Elizabeth was rather nervous and doing her best to quiet her irritation at being made such a fuss over. Last night, Mr. Darcy said she would need a few gowns to uphold her new station, and after soothing her own hurt feelings of not being presentable enough in her current condition for his liking, she agreed it would not be so bad to have some finer things if it was to be expected of her. However, her morning led her to believe this current experience was not something so small as only a few new gowns. No, she had had fabrics of every color and texture placed against skin since they had start their work directly after breakfast.

The modiste had five girls working in a flourish, and orders were barked about this dress and that dress. All the while, Elizabeth's opinions were being thrown over for edicts made in French. She knew the language well to know she would not be thrilled with the outcome nor the quantity of her new wardrobe. She did not require all of this. And, surely, her husband would truly not be thrilled with the abundant cost.

Elizabeth finished her tea and realized she did not know what to do with the cup. She couldn't move more than an inch let alone place her cup on the tray. She sighed heavily and rubbed her temples, a fine china cup dangling precariously from her smallest finger.

"Madam, you wished to see me?" Darcy bowed and tried his best to not stare at the state of the room or the state of his wife. Both were rather discomposed.

She inclined her head as best she could to acknowledge him. "Sir, I sincerely thank you for your efforts to make me into a lady who will not embarrass you, and please do not think me such an ungracious creature, but may I ask what is happening here?" Elizabeth waved her hand around the room willing her temper to remain checked.

"Your trousseau, I believe."

"Pardon?"

"I do believe you heard me, and did we not speak of this last night?"

"No, we most certainly did not, Mr. Darcy. We spoke of a few new gowns since you have decried all of mine as unworthy of you. I never agreed to a new wardrobe. And, it is not your place, it was my father's if he wished to provide it. And, nevertheless, I cannot imagine I have need of all this… this... Come no, do you really wish me to wear that?" Elizabeth waved her hand to the orange puffy horror she, and anyone else with eyes, could not help but especially despise.

He looked to what she referred and gave an involuntary step back in revolt. Before he could answer, she continued in a softer voice.

"I am sure you think me an ungrateful wretch, but sir, I do not need all of this… and especially that."

Despite her soft and pleading tones, an ungenerous thought crept into his head that perhaps he should order her to wear a creation in the hideous fabric as punishment for her thanklessness. He could send her out in it on her own and damn the consequences. Unfortunately for him, he was too late in hiding the wicked smirk which crossed his face, and it was too late to take back his cruel thought. For truly, he cared very much what others thought of Elizabeth… at least now if only for Georgianna's sake.

Elizabeth was incredulous at the flash of dark amusement she saw wash over his eyes as he was staring at the fabric Elizabeth would consign to the fire if it ended up in her wardrobe, and it broke the dam of her restraint which had been precariously wavering since his insult to her person and then his rejection the night before. She was tired, hurt, and now thoroughly tested by the French woman and now her seemingly spiteful husband. She had a firm idea of where his thoughts had gone as he eyed the abominable textile which filled the chair with its billowing volume. He was positively evil the way he looked at it with a depraved glee.

"Oh, no, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Certainly not! You may purchase whatever you like of this ridiculous finery for your own amusement and waste as many pounds in the process, but if you even consider for a moment that I shall don such an unsavory, unpleasant, and revolting – eek!" Her rebuttal was stopped with a high pitched squeal, and she was desperately trying to stay as still as possible, caught-up in a rather awkward pose as she was.

In her outburst at the mockery her husband was making over her, she had come down from the stool, stepped on the fabric which was so tightly fastened with sharp pins, and had been pierced at several locations all along her side. The tea cup still in her hand was lifted up high as her arm was raised to keep as much pressure off each prick.

He rushed to her side only to stand down when she glared at him. She whispered, trying to keep her breathing small. "The pins… sticking me… my maid, please."

He looked at her and raised a brow. He should not be enjoying this, but how much could a few pricks hurt? She winced, and then he felt appalled with himself. He did not wish pain on her even though she had done nothing give him the greatest feeling of agony he had ever been served.

He pushed those thoughts aside thinking again of her distress. He plucked the tea cup from her hand. Hurriedly and without consideration to what… and where his hands were actually feeing, he started to search for the pins over her bodice and hips. He pulled them out in a frenzy. The fabric started to drop as his hands grazed her body finding them all. When the last panel of purple fell he realized in a panic Elizabeth was looking at him with a flush covering her very exposed skin. Completely scandalized, she was in nothing except her stays and petticoats standing silently.

He turned around before he could fully take in the sight of her. He was sure he was now blushing more so than she. And, his bare hands burned with lingering heat. He shook them violently at his side.

"Have a care, sir, and do not turn around." Her voice was even and hard. And for that he coolly replied, "I suppose I am not to receive a 'thank you' then?"

Before she responded, they both heard a clamoring French tongue. Instead leaving her to the modiste and her maid, he strode to the door, locked it, and called out that his wife was currently detained. They were not welcome to return until a quarter hour had passed.

Speaking to the wall, he asked if she were now properly dressed.

"I am not. Keep your back turned, sir."

Involuntarily, his eyes shifted a large, gilded mirror, and he could see her frantically searching for her dress.

How he wished things were different.

His initial embarrassment faded more quickly than he had imagined, and now he wished to tell them all - servants, dressmakers, everyone - to go away for the rest of the day. He wanted to be alone with her. He wished to have the right to stand before her as she was and admire her lovely form. How could he want otherwise? He thought the sight of her in her dressing gown the night of their wedding and last night while on the ballroom was a divine picture, but there was something about her movements while in her petticoat which struck him where he stood.

She looked everything he always thought she would without the formality of a dress. It was more intimate to be caught somewhere betwixt the way the world saw her during the day and the way she dressed at night all wrapped up in her dressing gown over a billowing night rail. He could not convince himself, despite trying the whole of last night as he lay in his bed, that she was not anything other than beautiful.

Elizabeth finally found the dress she was hunting and before slipping into it, she looked up to the mirror catching his eyes. Her own went wide. He quickly averted his back to the wall. "I apologize, madam."

She was silent, and without turning his head or realizing what he was about, his eyes shifted back to the mirror only to meet hers again as she was fumbling with the buttons behind her back. This time she gave him flash of her fury, and he thought himself despicable indeed. He had the right to retain a certain bitterness towards her and not give considerations to her modesty, but he was a gentleman, and he should not have to remind himself of it so many times in her presence. "Do you need assistance, Elizabeth?"

"Certainly not." She was absolutely undone, it was not just her dress.

When she finished the last button taking as much time as she could, she smoothed her skirt and told him he could turn around. She did not wait for him to do so before she unbraided him. "Sir, do you have no respect for me? Do you have any idea what you have just done in your careless behavior?"

He was ready to retort that she was his wife and he could do much more than stare at her in her stays through a mirror if he so chose to do so. He was distracted immediately by that thought, so he was not quick enough to answer her before she started again.

"You have locked us in here and told the most fashionable modiste of Bond Street we were not to be disturbed… for a significant period of time. Do you suppose she and all her seamstresses will not repeat that to all the ladies they serve? I am completely embarrassed."

He paled at the compromising situation and then recalled they were married. And, surely, they were already the source of much gossip because of their hasty marriage – he being a much sought-after bachelor and she being an unknown country miss. People must already think much worse than what they would think knowing a husband may wish to spend time alone with his wife over the noon hour. He affected indifference at her concern. "I think it shall suit our purposes well, do you not think so? Perhaps gossip of _that_ nature shall save me from having to act the part of mooncalf when in public."

"Must you be so cruel?" Her voice was strangled and she did not look at him right away. She slowly raised her eyes, and he knew he would deserve the wit which was coming. "Yes, how silly I am to be concerned of my own reputation anyhow – you have no care for it. I shall be known as a wanton woman who cannot even act with restraint in her own house, and strangely that will serve your purpose. I cannot pretend to understand you whatsoever, so I will not attempt to do so in truth. You may now leave me."

He heaved a large gulp of air. He did not wish to argue with her on his first day out of his self-imposed imprisonment. They had to learn to be mutually indifferent when alone and work together when in the company of others. His bitterness was not beneficial, yet he could not quite contain it.

"Since this is my home, I will leave this room on my own terms, Elizabeth. May I ask why you originally called me in here?"

"As I said, this is too much. Much too much. Too many clothes. Too many seamstresses. And, too much Madame Jean André." She said the last with a flourish of French accent in her best impression of the authoritarian dressmaker, and as she spit the last out without any disguise of disgust, she shook her head in frustration at herself. "I do not mean to take out my feelings on her. I am sure she is only doing what you required of her."

Elizabeth moved to take a seat, defeated. "We have had a severely trying time, and I take full responsibility for it. But, even at my best, I am not prepared to stand for three hours while a domineering woman strips me down and pins me with her dictates. I was not expecting to stand for a full wardrobe fitting. I am hardly holding on to my composure in the company of my own thoughts let alone in the midst of a woman such as Madame Jean André. I do not particularly care for fashion – it is a required curse for a lady such as myself who has no desire but comfort. So, I must admit, my reason – my sanity is hanging by much less than… this." Elizabeth held up a stray thread which she pulled taught for effect. She then gave a determined lift to her shoulders and settled her eyes across the room with reproach. "And, I will categorically, unequivocally refuse to wear anything in that color."

Instead of finding amusement, he cringed as he looked at the fabric she was attempting to burn holes in with the fire coming from her eyes. No, she could never be clad in something so horrid. He would not allow it. He was confused on one point, however.

"You are not expecting a full trousseau?"

"Absolutely not. My father did not offer, and there was no time for wedding clothes save a dress for our wedding."

He went to sit beside her on the settee, defeated himself. "I see your father did not speak with you on my behalf, then?"

She looked at him with skepticism, and he continued speaking. "When I provided your father the terms of your settlement, I expressed the wish to provide your wedding clothes. He had indicated he would prefer to do it himself, but it was only right I should do so since I caused…" He broke off deciding not to bring blame into the conversation. "There was no time for you to properly prepare, and I was more than willing to provide for your needs upon taking you as my wife. Your father only relented to me having my way because there was not time to change the settlement to his preference." He said the last with some discomfort before carrying onward.

"Elizabeth, I thought you must have been expecting me to provide you with clothing and your pin money these past several days. It only reoccurred to me last night when I told you about the dinner we must attend. I now presume Mr. Bennet did not go over the details of the settlement?"

Elizabeth sat there confounded. Was she to be kept in the dark about everything concerning her life as Mrs. Darcy? "No, no one saw fit to give me much information at all about my future. You will excuse me if I am seem cross for being kept in ignorance."

"If you are vexed, then my apologies for not assuring things were explained to you in a timely fashion." He wished to add that if she was not so quick to anger on their wedding night, then she would have been secure in all the facts by now.

He pushed those resentful thoughts away. "I have a copy of the settlement in my study. I will ask it to be sent to your room so you may peruse it at your leisure. But, I would have you know immediately that according to our marriage, what is mine is yours. I bestowed all my worldly goods to you, and I cannot take it back.

"You are provided ample pin money to be paid quarterly to your own private account. However, it is just a formality. If you desire something your pin money does not afford, then all you need do is ask, and it shall be given. Your wedding clothes shall paid with my personal account, not yours. And, any purchase not strictly for your own use shall be obtained with another appropriate account – for instance, if you wish to redecorate your chambers in that lovely shade of carrot over there, it will come from the household account."

She smiled at his joke, and her breathing became uneven realizing his declarations. Surely he did not mean to be so lax with his wealth, and she could in no way countenance he meant all these clothing as a personal gift. "And if I become a spendthrift, Mr. Darcy?" She could not help to raise her brow and bait him. Teasing him calmed her own racing heart.

"You? Recklessly wasteful? You are sitting here arguing how a perfectly reasonable wardrobe is too much for you. Even if you were to spend to satisfy your wildest imagination, you will not even make a dent in the coffers. So, do your worst, madam."

"I am unsure if that is a compliment or an insult."

"I shall leave it to your all-too cleaver mind to decide while I have a discussion with your modiste. You know, Georgie is rather frightened of her, but she is too fond of the Madame's work to show it. No worry though, I shall explain you are done for the day."

"Well, if your sweet sister has the capacity to be brave in the face of this woman, then surely I can stand a few more hours of torture." Elizabeth smiled in empathy at the thought of her new shy, young sister standing as still as a statue while the Madame did her work with fanfare and decrees. They could trade battle stories, and Elizabeth found she was looking forward to it.

"Oh yes, Georgie is quite serious on the subject of fashion. She is surprisingly quite a willing martyr for her pretty dresses."

Elizabeth's laughter died when she eventually looked up to her husband's handsome face full of shared mirth. She caught her right hand with her left just before one or the other reached for his arm.

He straightened, and she followed his lead. "If you will send Mrs. Ellis or Tabitha to me, I shall be grateful for it. And, sir, I will borrow your sister's valiant grace and find a little more strength. I shall manage a little longer today."

He stood and favored her with a deep bow, his heart was ready to beat out of his chest at making her laugh so. He needed to remove himself from her immediately.

Before he reached the door, he heard a soft, "Thank you."

* * *

 **A/N:**

*This chapter was edited at least a month after it was originally posted. The last section I had originally left out, but I recently changed my mid and added it back in.* (07-18-2017)

Usual disclaimer - all errors are mine - point them out... first draft/no beta excuses and such.

Thank you for your reviews - they really mean everything. You have no idea how they lift me just when I need it. And, I am so sorry for making anyone cry, but I am glad you feel the emotion.

Also, I promised something in the previous author note. You will find it in the next chapter... which I am posting now. So, read on, my friends.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: I posted this and Ch 27 at the same time. Please read Ch 27 first.**

* * *

Fitzwilliam took to avoiding his wife since their discussion during her dress fitting.

But, he could not avoid her now. She would present herself atop the stairs at any moment. He would be a liar if he denied being nervous. He was unsure of how she would conduct herself in company given their fragile and almost non-existent relationship. At this dinner, a short ride across Mayfair, she would have to offer herself to new acquaintances with the utmost grace and with perfect manners. They would also have to pass off a very credible picture of newly wedded bliss. He laughed bitterly at the thought. He had not even kissed her as his wife.

The bitterness vanished as he saw her descend the stairs, and all the air whooshed from his chest. He looked down over himself to see if he would pass to stand next to her. It was not even the stunning deep crimson silk elegantly adorning every curve she possessed and revealing entirely too much décolletage considering he knew at least one rakehell would be attendance this evening – it was most certainly not the rubies which crowned her head and dropped from her ears. He had not really given much thought to handing the jewel cases to Mr. Johnson when it was mentioned the lady should be wearing something fine considering the company of this particular dinner. Now, he felt a sense of pride in how she made the stones sparkle brighter.

No, it was not any adornment that stole his breath. It was her – the small, nervous smile he now knew well, the light in her eyes which reflected vivacity, and her innate graceful manner of movement. He was not worthy of such a handsome, intriguing, and wonderful woman. She was not perfect, but he was much further off the mark than she. If only things could be different between them, he would not take his fortune for granted in assuming her feelings had matched his own.

She stopped before him and gave him a brilliant smile. And he smiled back until he saw the tiniest glint.

"Sir, I hope I will acquit myself well enough now that I am allowed to leave the house. I know it is impossible to fathom the company with which I shall subject myself this evening – being previously of such a low station and from a dismal backwater. But, I do hope I have improved enough to overcome any shame you may have for me. I would have consulted you on parts of my ensemble to assure it met with your expectations, but alas, I have not seen you since the day prior. So, you must forgive me if I do not give proper justice to my new station as your wife." She spoke the last quietly and in a pleasant manner which opposed her meaning. She gave a little, mocking curtsey as a footman approached with their outerwear.

To say he was stung was not half close to the feeling she inflicted. Before their wedding, he would not have guessed her to be so vindictive – for he had heard his own careless words from their conversation in the ballroom used against him.

He managed a few words to the butler as they departed, and he escorted his wife to the carriage wishing only to turn around and send their excuses to the Marchioness of Whitlock.

There was only silence for several minutes after the horses set off.

Elizabeth felt vile. How the man provoked her, and how she paid for it by only hurting herself. When she came to the stairs and caught the shock in his eyes, she felt his low expectations for her all over again. Did he have to seem so surprised she would attempt to look at least passable?

Try as she had, she had not let go of the hurt he caused her when he expressed concern that she would not present herself properly to his acquaintances. She had already felt more than a little uncertain when Tabitha insisted on threading a large ruby necklace in her coiffure.

When he was so obviously startled by her effort to blend in with the _ton_ , she felt she was an imposter and struck out to hide from her own insecurity. _When have I ever been so unsure of myself_? It was not his fault… entirely, and she knew she owed him a grave apology for her mean and uncharitable speech. She should have, instead, thanked him for his efforts to improve her appearance with the new dresses and use of jewels.

She started to put her feelings into words only to have him cut her speech short.

"No, Elizabeth. Do not attempt to placate me with an apology for your appalling words. You hold onto that malicious wit - you have such a finesse with it. You may even be called upon to use it tonight should the women tear into you in the drawing room. You shall be on your own for protection most of the night anyhow. I do not doubt your success to bring another so low should they require it, even should it be a Countess who simply gives you the wrong look. But let me ask you to be sure, are you at least aware how to properly address the peerage, or shall we have a quick lesson prior to our arrival? If you mother was so deficient in your education of manners, then I suggest you keep your curtsey low and that pretty, painted mouth of yours closed. I shall speak for you if you cannot do it properly. I will not have you embarrass me or my family by your lack of good breeding." After the words were out, Darcy felt as gutted as a fish. The retort he had been holding onto did not make him feel better as he had hoped. He stared into the darkened streets as they drove onward.

Elizabeth's quiet voice discomfited him further. "Well-done and well-deserved, sir." He looked to see a tear fall upon her cheek as she retrieved her handkerchief. The small amount of color her maid must have applied to her lips was not so bad; it only served to lightly accentuate the natural fullness of them. He should not have commented.

He was not accustomed to the wild sway of his feelings. _Damn her_. But, now, one look at her, and he wished to unsay every hurtful thing he had ever said since their marriage as the moonlight streamed into the carriage and illuminated the way she tore at her mouth with the embroidered linen in her hand. He reached out to stop her. "Forgive me, please. Stop. I beg it of you." His own voice was as discomposed as her actions.

She looked away from him. "There is nothing to forgive. Your words were just."

He sighed as he saw the home belonging to The Marquess of Whitlock in the distance and knew he must make things better before they were left the privacy of the carriage… for her sake, for his sake, and for the sake of their reputation which would affect his sister come the next year when she was out.

He grabbed Elizabeth's hand and bade her look at him. He took her handkerchief and lifted it to her eyes.

"Please, I beg you to forgive me just now. I do not know why I must be so cruel. You, Elizabeth, are completely forgiven for your earlier words. Let us say no more about it. You are stunning this evening. Please know that. You have every right to be here, and you will be universally adored. I know I ask too much, but please let us at least pretend to be happy this evening. I do not ask it lightly, but it is imperative."

She knew he was desperate, which almost shocking of itself. She did not think he played up to others or cared so much for their opinions, but then again, he said he was acting tonight on behalf of his family… and now he was pleading with her in a manner she had never heard before nor ever expected.

His uncle and aunt struck her as kind people. She was now a part of their fold, she would never let her family down if she could help it. With her marriage, she had already let down her father and Jane… and her even her own aunt and uncle – she would not do that to anyone else.

She shook her shoulders a bit as if to cast off the despondency and offered him the best smile she could manage. "Well, Mr. Darcy, you are fortunate my mother groomed her daughters well in the case they should catch young men of ten thousand a year. You shall not have to speak for me, so do not attempt it."

He breathed a sigh of relief. They would be well if her new-found humor held through the night.

The carriage came to a stop and the footman let down the steps. As the door opened and he stepped down, he reached for her hand and was surprised when she gave it a small squeeze. Under the torchlight, he saw a vibrant scarlet burned into her cheeks from their argument and the cool night air. She was ever so lovely. He said a silent prayer no other man would leer at her, for he did not know how he would react.

He stilled her a moment far enough away from the footman who was ready to greet their entrance. "Elizabeth, I know you do not put stock in station, but we shall be the only ones without title, and there is a peer here of every rank. I only want you to be aware before heading into the fracas of the _ton_. Also, one man here, the Duke of Seymour, will not be accompanied by his wife but his… well, his mistress. Most everyone here will be accepting of it, and I wish for you not to be shocked. The only other not accompanied by a wife will be a knight, Sir John Hanston; I consider him a good friend. He is soon to be married though, and his affianced will be here. She is the daughter of the Marquess of Whitlock. This is their home."

Elizabeth was still lost on the part about the mistress, but she was no missish creature. She placed her hand on the arm of her husband and whispered in his ear, "Tell me, do _you_ approve of this mistress?"

She said it with a thread of challenge, so he leaned his head down to hers. "As a principle, I loathe the very idea a man could be unfaithful to any vow. But, then again, I have met this particular Duchess."

She stopped and turned to him fully with narrowed eyes. "And, so tell me, just how often will you will you make an exception to your so-called principles on account of an ill-chosen wife?"

He placed his hand over hers which rested on his arm and bent low again to respond in her ear. "Have no fear on your own behalf, Mrs. Darcy. Unlike the Duke, I will honor my vow until death we do part. Let us just hope one of us does not resort to killing the other for the pure sport of it. To be safe, I shall hide my pistols when we arrive home."

Elizabeth did not know if she should wait to find the pistols later or strangle him there. She gave his arm a not so light squeeze, and it was a watchful Marchioness who called the Darcy's to come in from the cold.

Dinner was served in short order, and Darcy was placed just close enough to his wife to watch her charm smiles from her companions with intelligent conversation and pretty, genuine laughter. To her right was a Baron of about forty years known for being rather devoted to his wife, and the other being a Viscount not much older than Darcy. The Viscount had the reputation of a rake often forsaking his marriage of not so occasional convenience.

This man, the Viscount of Septon, who also went by the name of Hugh Westmoreland to his friends, was a well-informed, likable rogue, who despite poor personal decisions, made brilliant business decisions. Darcy was ashamed to call him somewhat of a friend. As young men at school, they stood shoulder to shoulder when each needed the backing of a friend. Westmoreland was even welcoming of Charles Bingley without the slightest turn of his nose, and Darcy appreciated the support toward the man he considered his truest friend after his cousins.

It was as Darcy was studying his friend that the man took a rather deliberate look at Elizabeth's display of generous allure.

 _Damn that French woman_ _and her French fashion_.

Westmoreland's wife, one of Darcy's dinner partners and a woman he had never particularly liked – for though she was just as guilty of indiscretions as her husband, she was severe and mean-spirited to all she knew – leaned in close, "Congratulations on your pretty wife, sir. I believe I speak for my husband as well." Her titter grated Darcy's ears.

Darcy had to squash the inexplicable feeling of violence he felt towards Westmoreland (and even the man's wife) as he watched Elizabeth bring her serviette to her mouth in an effort to effect modesty. However, beating his sometime-friend to a bloody pulp would defeat the purpose of this blasted dinner. Hugh Westmoreland, Darcy, and the Fitzwilliams were partners in several investments, and some peace needed to be maintained, especially as this dinner was set to create much-needed alliances. Nevertheless, Darcy would see to it his friend act as a gentleman immediately after the women vacated the dining room.

Port and cigars were passed around the table, and before the business began, then men started with pleasantries – the favored subject was the newly introduced Mrs. Darcy.

The Duke of Seymour, a friend of his father's when his father was still alive, began in his usual forthright manner. "Say, Darcy, let me commend you. After seeing Mrs. Darcy, I more understand the speed of your nuptials. Even you have outdone yourself with that fine filly. She seems a spirited, sweet creature. I do believe your father would approve. God rest his soul." The Duke raised his glass as did the others at the table.

"Your Grace." Darcy bowed his head to the man in thanks and pushed the thought of his father to a dark recess in his head.

His friend, Sir John, who was shortly to be married himself, moved to the chair next to Darcy's and spoke next. "Darcy, I must say I was wounded not to be invited, but if you were wishing for the shackles as quickly as everyone says, then you are now forgiven wholly on account of your wife. I understand the need to hide her from town and marry her before anyone could take a look at her and challenge you for her hand. You find one like that, and you get the deed done as soon as possible."

Everyone gave their agreement, and Sir John leaned in with a conspiratorial glance, "I am marrying Genevieve as soon as her father allows for the same reasons. Lord know she will wake up one morning and realize she could have found a better prize." Sir John laughed at his self-depreciation. Darcy gave a light chuckle at his friend, but as for his own case, Darcy imagined Elizabeth must wake every day feeling such.

Still the deed, as Sir John put it so aptly, was done, or it was mostly done he supposed. Elizabeth was his by law and under the sanctity of the church, and it was time for all these men to desist in their observations. They had all looked over her a little too much appreciation for his tastes… except for Sir John. John, someone he had known since he was short pants, at least reserved his looks of approval for Darcy and sent all the attentions to his own intended, an accomplished young woman if a little too exuberant at times.

Darcy excused himself for a few moments prior to getting on with the business, and as he exited, he came behind Viscount Septon who had favored Elizabeth too much for Darcy's liking. He placed a strong hand over Westmoreland's shoulder.

The man leaned back to him. "Darcy, hurry up with the privy, chap before the Duke drinks all the port and we lose his interest to the ladies. You know how he is around too many distracting pretty faces. We will never get this blasted deal settled."

Darcy ignored him, gave a firm squeeze and spoke with a solemn quiet. "Perhaps, My Lord, it is you who are distracted by the ladies, and in particular, my wife. Keep your lecherous gaze to your own wife, or your whores – I care not. _My_ wife deserves your respect and your eyes averted – do not make me demand it." He let his hand up and walked out of the dining room to the corridor.

He had been the home of the Marquess many times since he was a young boy and knew where to go to see to his personal needs. He wished he go to the front door, call his carriage, and just go home. But alas, such was not an option.

Before he turned a corner, his wife's name rang out from an open room adjacent to where he stood… which was now backed into a dark alcove behind a tall pot. _Have I truly_ _been reduced to eavesdropping_?

He knew it was unpardonable of him to listen to another's private conversation, but on account of his wife and his sister, he was desperate to know the extent of the damage and gossip. His aunt had alluded to it, but he felt she was sparing him.

The voices were of two women notorious for knowing everyone's business, so he assumed he would at the very least gain an accurate picture of what was being bandied about.

 _"Well, I suppose Ellen is right in that the new Mrs. Darcy is a lovely little thing, and no doubt Darcy will be beating rakehells off with his stick, but I do not really detect anything special there. Ellen told it was that he was smitten, but what does she really know? I cannot see it. All he did was scowl, and there is nothing new in that."_

 _"You do not really believe there was a compromise, do you? I know it has been speculated despite what Lady Fitzwilliam says. But, exactly who compromised whom do you suppose? I wager it was Mrs. Darcy, and I am sure she is not as innocent as her looks lead one to believe. She is a country nobody, and just who is her father? It is not reported she had much a dowry. Why would he choose to marry her when he had his pick?"_

 _"I must agree with you then, dear. If he were a man so in love to marry a country chit without proper inducement, then we would see it in his looks… considering that dress she is wearing – I must really find about her modiste."_

 _"Oh heavens, even I thought I would need close dear Edwards mouth as they were introduced."_

 _"La, if only I still had the form of my youth. Anyhow, that young man can be a prig of the first order, but even he would be fawning at her feet if he were really in love with the girl. Oh, bless dear Anne she does not have to witness her son's travesty of a marriage. Mark my words, there is something off between the two. Goodness, why would they leave their bed chambers to come to this stuffy, old dinner? I know I did not leave my rooms for a fortnight after my marriage."_

The women clucked and began discussing other topics of gossip. Once Darcy took a few breaths to dispel his anger, he moved from the shadows to refresh himself and then strode back to the dining room with purpose. Once the business discussions were over and they were all in mixed company, he would do what was required, and then they would take their leave.

Things concluded quickly in the dining room… mostly to the Duke's impatience, and so the gentleman retired to their ladies. Elizabeth was at the piano with Lady Genevieve. The Marchioness smiled at her daughter and her guest with a question on her face and receiving an answer in the affirmative, announced for everyone to take their seats as they were to have some music.

Darcy looked Elizabeth over for any signs of nerves and found only her easy, smiling face. He dared to hope she would sing tonight. He had not the pleasure of listening to her for far too long. Her singing voice was the kind which moved a soul, and he sat with rapt eyes on her knowing she would impress the room. He would be proud of her, and her performance would suit his new purpose as well.

The opening melody took him by force. She sang a simple aria, one which was quite popular, but he had never heard a rendition so moving.

As the last note faded and she dropped a curtsey to a silently stunned room that then gushed with approbation.

Though he planned on a public display of affection after overhearing the speculation on his marriage, it truly was her performance which led him to stand directly before his wife, his admiration, no longer hiding in disappointment, on full display. The rest of the guests were now focused now on his actions and became silent.

Elizabeth's eyes darted around as his seared into hers, and one hand snaked up to cover the growing flush of her neck.

He reached out, a slow burn in his eyes. As he stretched for her hand, he slowly grazed her jaw and held his fingers there for a just longer than an instant.

As he was sure everyone's eyes were on his wife, he pulled her hand into his, brought it between them, and bowed over it, deeply.

"Elizabeth… you move me… beyond words." He then brought her fingers to his lips where he lingered for far too long.

When he felt her start to pull away, he tightened his grip and stood next to her, still clasping her hand. He moved to address the room and hoped Sir John would forgive the slight to Lady Genevieve in that he would not acknowledging her part of the performance on the pianoforte.

"I apologize, but I must take my wife home now. Lord and Lady Whitlock, you are gracious hosts and we appreciate your hospitality." He did not dare look to Elizabeth as he now stood beside her, and he prayed her reaction was not one of astonishment. He finally dropped her hand to finally give his hosts and the Duke a proper leave-taking. He was pleased when he saw in his periphery that Elizabeth had followed his lead without so much a word of encouragement.

The room was still scandalized as the Marchioness stood to usher her guests out and ring for their things. Darcy, for his part, had never been more proud of himself as he followed just slightly behind his wife allowing his hand rest a little lower than on the small of her back… for the rest of the room to plainly see.

He knew he was never one for a public display of anything much less the exhibition he just put on in Whitlock's drawing room. His cousins would roast him alive when the tattle got back to them in Derbyshire, and he expected it would not take long. Nevertheless, this was a major personal feat to act publically in such a bold fashion, and it was one he must wait to apologize for until he and Elizabeth were secluded in their carriage.

Darcy's footman rolled up the steps and closed the door, and he finally took a good look at his wife. His own embarrassment and anxiety had finally replaced any personal pride he felt in allowing the world to see his raw emotion.

Really though, his admiration could be nothing less than false. _Where is there pride in disguise_? He was now muddled in his thoughts.

He wished she would just turn her head to look at him. He needed to see her eyes, to know her feelings.

"Elizabeth, I am sorry. But, I had to act – "

Her head was still turned away. "You do not need to explain. After sitting in the drawing room with all of those Ladies for above an hour, I understand. Let us not discuss it further."

How he hated this. He hated having to burden her with such a public display of affection… and his own true affections that would not cease no matter how he wished them to. And, he hated himself for being caught up in the moment of it all; he had not had to act at all, yet he had to allow her to believe it. He could not handle any further rejection.

He was so mesmerized by the sorrow in her voice, and all he wanted to do was remove her sublime form and special talent from staring eyes, perked ears, and wagging tongues. _He_ wanted to be at the center of her attention. He did not like how she looked from person to person as she delivered her song. He had wanted to bolt up and haul her out of the room when she bestowed a pretty smile on Seymour as she closed her song.

She did not look to him once.

Elizabeth's own mind was in a tumult. She felt lost in a quagmire of unstable emotions that swelled up around her feet as her husband, so handsome in his best evening attire, strode over to her with so much purpose in his eyes.

She was reminded of the day he had kissed her against the tree before her father came upon them. She remembered exactly the how the powerful, hard lines of his face gave way to an intense gentleness right before he kissed her. Her breathing stopped when she recognized the look on his face this evening, and she was even fearful he may push her against the piano to kiss her in that same way which made her lose her mind that fateful day.

When he grabbed her hand instead, she was not sure if she were more disappointed or thankful he restrained himself. But the way he had complimented her, his voice so thick with emotion, almost made her swoon for the first time in her life. She was too busy caught up in his presence to even notice or care that he was excusing them for the night in such a hasty fashion that was sure to be a subject of every open drawing room in Town come the morning.

Once she collected her wits as she was trying her best to remind herself that at one time in her life she was a completely sensible person. As the mist cleared in her head and heart, she quickly pieced together why he would take such a drastic, public action. Her time away while in the drawing room away from her husband was full of horrible insinuations and prying questions she had done her best to answer.

 _No_ , _do not be foolish Elizabeth Bennet_. The most passionate and public compliment she had ever received in her life was nothing more than a necessary performance for salvaging their reputations. The man sitting next to her in the carriage must have experienced the same questions she had while the sexes were separated. Her husband was smart, most certainly concerned for appearances, and was nothing if not a man of action when required.

They sat in silence on the way home that night, and the next several days reverted to a pattern of meeting over breakfast with a few polite words and then leading their separate lives occasionally passing each other in the halls.

Elizabeth finished what she could of the Boxing Day baskets and reviewing with Mrs. Ellis what of the perishable goods would finish them off. She finished the Christmas gifts she had been working on and sent a footman to purchase others. Correspondence to almost everyone was briefly written in a way which said as little about her marriage as possible. She despaired of writing Jane most of all and prayed her sister was so happy she could overlook the lies Elizabeth had eventually put to paper claiming she had finally found happiness with her Mr. Darcy. Jane had grown more impatient and expressed anxious worry for her sister. Elizabeth refused to have her sister burdened and therefore wrote what was required by conjuring up all her her imaginings of what married life could be under different circumstances. She felt despicable, but it was a worse evil than allowing Jane to suffer.

The knocker remained off the front door during this time, and all guests were turned away much to the relief of both Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Each privately wondered how long they could use being a newly wedded couple as an excuse to hide from the world. The irony of the situation was lost on neither Darcy.

Finally, Christmas was closing in, and it was time to set off for Matlock. The weather surprisingly held for the ride north though the air was certainly cold. Elizabeth and Darcy managed to keep their new routine of ignoring each other and speaking as little as possible even while sharing a carriage and traveling together. Their meals were quiet affairs. Darcy ensured they had separate rooms at every inn, and the days were spent reviewing correspondence, planning estate and household matters each brought with them, or burying their attentions in a book. It was often one would pull their heads from the written word before them to catch the other staring. Their silence was not companionable.

But, so used to it all by the third day, Elizabeth jumped when Darcy spoke her name.

"Elizabeth… Elizabeth." The second time he said her name it was almost a shout. "We will reach Somerdale within the half hour."

Elizabeth casually gave her hurried thanks for the information so absorbed she was in reading a new volume of geography sent to her by her father as a Christmas gift. What was a place called Somerdale to a lush, warm climate of white sands and forests in a new world? This territory called West Florida sounded like a marvelous escape considering the small flakes of snow which started to swirl upon the English ground.

"Elizabeth?"

She quelled the sigh on her lips as she marked her place. "Sir?"

She noticed her husband seemed more prickly and fidgety than he had in the past few days. He was a quite tall man with broad shoulders, so she imagined it was more than just her presence which made the journey unpleasant for him. But, there now seemed something else plaguing him, and she did not feel the need to attempt easing his manner just now. She had sat with him, uncomfortably, in a carriage for three days. She was now comfortable with _uncomfortable_. So, she looked at him waiting for whatever it was he wished to say.

"Elizabeth, we will be with my family very soon. Somerdale is the name of their estate, I am sure I mentioned it."

"No, sir, you did not."

"Well, now you are aware. My Uncle and Aunt, of course, will be there as our hosts, and my Cousin Richard… I believe you met at the wedding if you do not recall. And, of course, Georgie will be there. She is truly looking forward to spending time with you – it is all she writes about. And then there will be my other cousin Stephen, Viscount Stanton, and his wife Ruth. They have two children, Samuel and Tabitha. Then, there is also my cousin Isabella, she is not much older than you."

"A large party, then. I am looking forward to it, sir." She kept her voice neutral.

"Elizabeth, you cannot address me as _sir_ around my family, nor can you address me as Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth felt her heart tighten a bit. She could not call him _Fitzwilliam,_ absolutely not possible. "Very well." She would just avoid referring to him as anything at all or perhaps _Darcy_ if she were desperate.

"I do not believe you understand. These people are my closest family. They will see right through our personal struggles. I cannot allow such to happen, and I cannot allow my sister to be distressed by our... especially her. Are you sure you are comfortable making… _this_ , um… work while we are here?" He gestured between the two of them as he emphasized the word ' _this_ ' – he could not find a word to name to their relationship. "If you can manage it, then you must address me using my Christian name, and we will have to speak to each other when in company. If you cannot, we should deliver our gifts and make our excuses."

Elizabeth knew what was expected of her and she nodded her agreement. They did not spend three days in a carriage in the bitter cold to make their excuses.

She ignored the resistance in her heart of living a lie and the hurt of having to. Some things, like her own pride and even the heart of a young girl, deserved more consideration than her tormented feelings.

"There is something additional I must say, a warning of sorts. My family, the Fitzwilliams, and I am excluding Georgianna from this… they are noble and everything proper when required and when in Society or company. My Uncle and Stephen are brilliant in politics. Richard is one of the finest military men this country has. I do not say this because I am partial to them. The ladies are all very accomplished and have perfect manners when needed; my aunt is one of the _ton_ 's leading ladies one might say. However… they all feel very strongly about family."

It was hardly possible, but Darcy became more uneasy to the point his face was locked in a cringe. "You see, we are all very close, and no one stands on formality. They have accepted me and Georgianna as their own after my parents left us.

"When it is just us together in one of our homes, they do not hold on to their public façade. I say this to place you on your guard… they are actually quite jovial… well boisterous… and Stephen and Richard… and even my uncle… can be downright obnoxious… and, my aunt lords over them all with Ruth at her side and Isabella following in their wake. They will ask you as many questions as they feel they can goad you into answering. You see, my inability to find a wife was something of a jest over the past several years. And, you are the subject of some fascination to them all. If they offend you, you must tell me at once. I am sure they will immediately consider you as family and not restrain their natural behavior. I ask you not to be too shocked if they conduct themselves in an unexpected way."

Elizabeth was trying to match the seriousness of her husband whom she now suspected must be the dour one of the family despite knowing he was capable of some humor… or at least he was prior to their wedding. Nevertheless, she could not stifle her amusement at his worry. How could be concerned for her? Of course, she could manage the company of a loud, unrestrained family.

In a very unladylike manner, she let her laughter ring off the walls of the carriage.

"Offended? Are you entirely serious? Sir, have you not met my own family? I do happen to recall a very embarrassing dinner in which you had to remove yourself because of the scene they were all making… something about some peas falling into my mother's dress?" She gave her husband a smirk in such a teasing way his hands clenched the bench he was sitting upon. "Sir, my embarrassment knew no bounds. I assure you, I am quite deft at dealing with a family who fails to be anything other than ridiculous. And, of course, there is no one, and I do mean no one who can hold a candle to Lydia and even, I dare say, my mother. I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, you shall not have to be concerned on my behalf."

He rolled his eyes at her though he slowly settled into a smile at the remembrance of that particular Bennet family dinner and kissing her on the steps of Longbourn's entry.

However, she had not a clue as to what as to what was about to fall upon her head, and her waving off his warning gave him much to be annoyed with.

And, blast it all, she called him Mr. Darcy. He had a low feeling in his stomach. He did not wish to disappoint his family knowing how pleased they all were for his marriage despite the rushed circumstances. For heaven's sake, they called him a romantic - he even had acknowledged it. "Elizabeth, do not call me 'Mr. Darcy'. I beg it of you."

She understood he was nervous for himself, and she channeled her laughter into something more compassionate. Did she not take the easy path by forgoing a visit to her own family over the festive season? Comprehending this would be a great trial for him, she vowed she would not make things more difficult.

"Fitzwilliam…" She was tentative as his name rolled off her lips, and his eyes shot to hers. "Thank you for warning me. I shall do my best."

She gave him an encouraging smile while holding out her hand as a token of affinity, and before he could tear his eyes away from hers or take her proffered hand, the door to the carriage was open.

They made their way into the house following a butler called Hodges. Elizabeth thought Darcy House had taken her breath away when she first had seen it, but now she realized it was just a small dose of what a place like Somerdale was. Thankfully, she was not overcome, and her mind drifted to what Pemberley should be like. She would never ask Mr. Darcy, but she may be able to ask Georgianna.

A door was opened and they stepped through after their names were announced. They were met with so many smiling faces that Elizabeth was indeed shocked despite Mr. Darcy's warning.

"Elizabeth, allow me to intro-"

The earl of Matlock stopped him and stood. "Darcy, my boy, introductions can wait if you please. I do believe you understand the expectations in the house." He gave an obvious nod to something above their heads.

Everyone burst out with laughs. Elizabeth looked around not sure what exactly was happening. She caught her new sister's eyes, soft smile and blushing cheeks. She began to return it until she heard her husband swear under his breath. She looked to him as he reached up for a berry from the mistletoe above their heads.

 _Oh, dear lord_.

"Uncle, you will have to forgive me as I have always avoided this ridiculousness which you insist upon. No offense to your lovely holiday decorations intended, Aunt Ellen."

A woman's voice, which betrayed an authoritarian rule, spoke up. "Darling, do not ignore your wife in such a way, it is rude."

Before Elizabeth knew what had happened, her husband bent to kiss her cheek, and she was embarrassed by the jeers which abounded the room.

A man, who she remembered as Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, stood up and started across the room. "Well, Darcy, if you will not kiss your wife, then let me show you how it is done."

She felt Darcy tense beside her. "Richard, you will stand down, or I will take you outside for a private word."

Everyone laughed except Elizabeth and Darcy, and Richard laughed louder than them all before turning to sit and saying, "As if you can best me, you lout."

Darcy was correct, his family was obscenely obnoxious. She would have never guessed upon their first meeting at her wedding. They had conducted themselves so regally and proper.

It was the Earl who now spoke next. "Richard is correct, that is no proper kiss for a newly married girl, and no proper welcome. This is my house, and I shall do it myself, Darcy."

Before Elizabeth could be mortified any further, her husband turned to her, swept her up in his arms, and bent her back while securing her in his tight embrace. She thought she heard him whisper, "Forgive me" before all thought was lost to her completely.

He touched his lips to hers, and he was powerless but to deepen the feather soft feeling of her plush mouth under his, and she was helpless but to return his overture. He captured her lips over and over in a need which had overcome him while gripping her for dear life. The past weeks of torture were cured, at least for those few tender moments by her eager response.

Her lips were so forgiving, and her body felt so warm he craved something he could not even name deep inside of him. He had despaired of never being allowed to do this that he was lost to everything around him but the feeling of her. Something from far away intruded into his bliss long enough for him to pull back just a hair's breadth away.

He could feel her chest heaving under his, and all he could think about was kissing her again. The sensation of her gloved hands grasping at his lapels drew him back for one more caress of her mouth which was still parted and panting. Of his own volition this time, he pulled away to look into her face pushing out the fear long enough to open his eyes.

He almost dropped her when he saw a tear fall to the side and roll into her hair. Time seemed to regain its normal pace as he slowly pulled her back up to stand on her own two feet as their audience applauded and whistled.

He was sure it was Stephen who let out a few exclamations of "Brava!"

As Darcy was coming into comprehension that he had finally kissed his wedded wife, he dropped his embrace.

He had completely humiliated them both.

Before he could drag Elizabeth back the carriage to never return, the Earl had his arms around them both, squeezing tightly before releasing them.

"Well, I will be damned boy, I did not mean for you to scandalize the servants." Darcy looked through the open door behind him to find the butler and several maids in a state of disbelief as to what they just witnessed. "But, I must say, that was much better. Now, come have some tea before you escape to ah, wash off the road dust shall we say."

 _Yes, wash off the road dust, indeed._

* * *

 **A/N** : Thank you for reading.


	29. Chapter 29

Darcy's heavy feet pounded the stairs in abject weariness knowing too easily the way to his chambers. He was coming in after spending much too long in the stables under the guise of examining the new horseflesh Stephen and Richard obtained at Tattersalls earlier in the autumn. It was one of the many things the cousins shared – love of all things equine. Of course, like any group of close men, they were unique and had their differences.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was a teasing, jovial man who had an inclination toward the absurd and irreverent. Though he was an honorable man and a gentleman when it counted, especially concerning unmarried females such as his young cousin, he also delighted in merriment of all kinds and indulging in some non-injurious debauchery every now and then when required to shut out the cries of battle. He much preferred being the second son who had his father's relish for life which precluded him from taking much of anything too seriously unless his mother, young charge, or King demanded it as worthy.

Hi mother, the Countess of Matlock, in particular though did have her limitations of authority – she had been pressing him for years to take a wife, and on that point he was full of _la résistance_. Now that Darcy had pulled the wool over them all and hastily waved the flag of surrender to a country beauty, the good Colonel would be on his own to carry the title of bachelor… which suited him quite just as well. He would bide his time until the perfect young woman knocked him off his feet and bound him into leg shackles. For like his brother and cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam would not be swayed by his mother's list of acceptable ladies. Buried under the alternating layers of merry cheek and unpolished, battle-hardened armor was a true, beating romantic heart longing close to the end of patience.

Stephen, the oldest of the three men, who in childhood considered themselves together a merry band of brothers bound by blood and allegiance to one another, was perhaps the most mature and best parts of Darcy and Richard crafted into a dashingly handsome aristocrat. As a child, he was their fearless leader when scurrying off to fight the imaginary bandits or pirates holding the fair maiden, usually poor Isabella, captive.

Only a few years younger than Darcy, the female version of Richard insisted on being included in their games and surprisingly did not complain so much when they asserted she could only play if evil King John tied her to a forest tree or Blackbeard hid her in an island cave.

Darcy laughed at his reverie thinking of little Isabella. Thankfully Georgie escaped most of that fate, for she was just a few years too late to be subjected to their whimsical, childish games.

But, the now grown Stephen Fitzwilliam, Viscount Ashdown, heir to the Earldom of Matlock, while strong-willed, sharp, and thoughtful, also had something of the Earl's outlandish nature. He was as generous to receive as he was to give when there was a good tease to be had. Yet, noble Stephen knew when to soberly act and with purpose. Darcy looked to Stephen's example in many things, not the least of which was marriage.

Unlike Richard, Stephen had never romanced with anyone other than his wife. Just like the Earl himself, the heir was committed to his marriage, family, and duty. Darcy appreciated his older cousin's strong words of support received in a letter during the week after his marriage to Elizabeth though the tidings were difficult to read in such a despondent state. They were a reminder that his family stood in staunch support, and thus Darcy was harshly prompted to uphold his own duty of making his marriage presentable to the outside world for the sake of those he loved best.

Darcy pushed it all away as he strode through the corridor. All he wanted to do was refresh himself, rest, and meditate on whatever had possessed him to kiss Elizabeth in such a way with his whole family as witness. Stephen and Richard had nigh on dragged him to the stables as soon as the hasty and formal reintroductions were made to an unusually awkward Elizabeth. He could not blame her for being so aloof after he had mortified her in such a way before people she considered complete strangers.

Thinking back to the impromptu revelry given in the stables after the Earl had followed them out, he shook his head at the ribbing to the likes which he had not had in years. Eventually, some horrible excuse for whiskey was pilfered from the stable master. They passed it around, Richard drinking much too much while Darcy attempted the barest drop.

There were whoops of congratulations, hearty slaps on the back, and general lewd references to Darcy's supposed deflowering as if he were some silly maiden. _Damn them all._ Yes, they all knew his attitude of being faithful to a future wife - for Stephen shared the same philosophy, and Richard had held his own unchaste exploits over both their heads in younger years. The Earl, of course, thought it all great fun and beamed with pride at his newly wedded nephew. When the whiskey was mostly gone, Uncle Henry seized him up around the arms and lifted him up off the hay-strewn ground just like he had when they were young lads. It was all most unseemly given they were all very tall, broad men.

"Son, that little display of yours under the mistletoe warms this old man's heart. We have wished you would find some happiness for so long. I would not have given a jot if she were a milkmaid at this point. But, I must say you are quite lucky to have found such a handsome and poised creature. She seems a reserved little thing, but have no worries on that front, we will liven her up while you are here. And, God willing, she will fall in-line like Ruth and give you fine children if there is anything telling in the way she allowed you to kiss her. Ah, you should have seen the look on Hodges' face. It is rare that man is shocked after serving this family for most of his life. William, it is really something that out of all of us, _you_ were the one to disconcert our butler."

Darcy felt his breath being squeezed out as the Earl gave him a lasting, tight grip around the chest. How a man with grown children still had the arms of a bear was a testament to the virility which ran through them all.

"Uncle, you have only been in the presence of Elizabeth twice now. Do not be so sure to entertain the idea of her being shy or reserved. She is all that is well-mannered but will not hesitate to slice you with her sharp wit as soon as the opportunity presents itself. You should have seen the way she handled herself at Whitlock's dinner. Rank means naught to her, so that will not protect any of you. And, her liveliness can rival Richard's. But, I will remind you, she is truly a gentlewoman and not accustomed to such indelicate behavior by those she does not know. I hope you all will ease her into the antics of our family." Darcy felt the pang of conviction as he said it.

He had reserved his severe judgment for _her_ family when _his_ deserved the better part of censure. How apt justice was in this case for his conscience. Of course, her family was ridiculous in their own right and did not limit that ridiculousness in public as his family did, but he knew the Bennet family was not nearly as salacious as his own. He was thankful his Fitzwilliam relations at the very least thought to be tame in Georgiana's presence. However, poor Isabella was not as fortunate as she did not have the luxury of having grown up in a household unprotected from brotherly domination. And now, Elizabeth would have no such luxury either since she was neither considered still a child nor or a chaste, unmarried maiden, and it was most unfair she would have to bear worse than he had to with the Bennets - they were nothing to the Fitzwillams – in rank, wealth, and at their worst, in complete dissolute farce.

Darcy left off the comparison and opened the door to the chamber he called his own since he was a young lad. These rooms had always been his so much that he still had boyhood effects secreted around in drawers and some proudly displayed on the mantle. He spent just as much time at Somerdale as Pemberley during his formative years after his mother had died.

His chamber was located in the family wing and never allowed to be taken by another since he had laid claim to it as a child of twelve. It was a surprise then when he entered to find a sleeping beauty curled up on the counterpane with wet hair strewn over a naked shoulder and a half-exposed back. Something like a dressing gown was wrapped around the parts of her he had only imagined. The fire was built high, and the air was as hot as the blood now rushing through his body.

He turned his back immediately to the door out of habit. _What is she doing in my bed?_ This was impossible. His Aunt Ellen… how could she dare presume they would share sleeping arrangements? Was there no decency and propriety in this house of bedlamites?

Before he stomped out of the chamber, he heard the bed release a small moan. Turning over his shoulder, he saw his wife bury herself under her dressing gown, still very much asleep. He went to chair where a warm-looking shawl lay and used it to cover her sleeping form. Try as he might avert his eyes, he would be sooner be cast into brimstone. The deepest part of him as a man required him to take in her form. In every way of import, her body was most different than his own. It held no measure against any great work of art or risqué illustration he had peaked upon in his younger years.

He loomed and studied every inch of skin and barely covered curve from her dainty feet, so much smaller and smoother than his own, to her slender neck, up to where the loose, wet hair now skipped over the pillow. She must have bathed after their travels. What if he would have entered as she was in the bath? How much would he have seen then? _Damn them for detaining me!_

The rise and fall of her chest in a perfect tandem of torture with the slight puffs of breath descending from her half-open lips demanded he loose himself in thought of this hidden splendor. As he almost reached for, she shifted as if sensing she was in certain danger. Jolted into reality, he castigated himself for his ungentlemanly conduct. Though she was his wife, they were not intimate. Her face was delicate as porcelain, and the heat of the room caused a beautiful bloom under her peacefully closed eyes. In her natural state of sleep, he was reminded of her innocence and loveliness. His almost loss of control reminded him of his own inexperience... to be so easily enthralled at sights never seen. Her every feature was dear and perfect. If was painful to know the creature before him would never be truly his to love, and he would have to rely on memories of accidental moments such as this.

He stepped away in duress and the crunch of paper sounded under his boot. His character was not so strong to deny the temptation of reading her private correspondence after being assaulted by her sleeping form and encountering the natural effects of such a perusal. He may never know her in ways he could only imagine, so he would settle for knowing her any way he could. With a selfish resolution, he took a chair across the bed willing the woman lying there to wake and stop him from invading her privacy further because he was lost to all propriety.

 _Dear Lizzy,_

 _I hope this finds you well in Matlock. When you wrote me you would be there for Christmas, Charles was kind of enough to give me the direction to the Somerdale Estate. You must write and tell me of Mr. Darcy's family and any adventure you have there. I am sure his family will be so delighted with you, for who could not be? And, please give my special regards to Mr. Darcy's sister. She was such a pleasure to speak with at the wedding._

 _Oh, Happy Christmas sister! How I dislike being parted on such a day, but I hope you will like the shawl I sent for your gift. The wool is so soft and warm, and Charles has led me to believe the winters in the north are indeed much colder than what you or I am used to in Hertfordshire. Please tell me if you are delighted with it, for if not, I will gladly send something in its place._

 _You, my dearest friend, have given much relief and allayed all my deepest concerns. I am so sorry to own my worries in such a way as put in my last letter. It was unlike you to be brief in your correspondence and so unforthcoming; however, I do respect your privacy, and I pray you forgive me if I pried too far. After our conversations before our marriages, I could never put my concerns for you away considering what you related of your and Mr. Darcy's lack of understanding. After our marriages, your first two letters did not put me at ease and rather encouraged my fears, but your last letter certainly has appeased my anxiety for you. What an account you have written!_

 _I am so elated you have found such felicity in your Mr. Darcy. I was confident in my belief of him being a good man and sensible to your worth. Sweet Lizzy, with the pleasure of hindsight, I am not so sure as to what you were so worried with the night before our weddings? How could anyone not love you so? But all of that is now gone away! I do recall the way he looked upon you as we entered the church that morning. Both your husband and mine wore the face of besotted men. How could you have ever doubted you were marrying for the love you always wished?_

 _My happiness is now complete knowing you have found yours with your husband. There was a small part of guilt I had in my joy with Charles knowing you still questioned yours with Mr. Darcy. It took everything I could muster in restraint to not ask Charles to take me to you in Town. I was desperate to know all was well with you._

 _And sister, now to learn everything is as it should be as you are finding great pleasure in your marriage, I can now fully express and confirm my elation in being a married woman to a most generous man! How our most secret wishes have come to completion! I wish I could relate certain things in this letter only sisters can share, but I dare not. I shall find it suffice to say our mother was correct about the goodness and power of a man freely giving his love, but I digress (and now Charles asks why I blush so.) I take hope in you having found similar comfort in your own husband._

 _If I knew what bliss Charles could have brought to me, I dare say your very proper sister may have followed through on her warning to drag her betrothed to Gretna in a rather unladylike manner despite Papa relenting on a short engagement… can you believe I should think such a thing? Heaven help me, and I ask the Almighty daily that I can find my former restraint when I am next in the presence of my family. Lord help Papa if Lydia catches any understanding of the great delight marriage can be._

 _Oh, dear, I fear I have turned to the fanciful and nonsensical, and you shall think this letter written by someone other than your good sister, Jane. It must be that my head has been in the heavens since the Second of December. I dare say I am a woman changed and so much for the better. Daily, hourly, every minute in the presence of Charles, my life becomes more than I thought it was meant to be._

 _I must thank you again, Lizzy, for being so open with me and providing the reassurance my heart needed to be open with you and share what I could with no other. I cannot wait until we are together again and can share our own joys together in person._

 _With so much love my heart may very well burst,_

 _Jane Bingley_

 _P.S. How inordinately pleasurable it is to sign such a name! Oh, and Charles sends his regards and Christmas tidings to you and his dear friends, Mr. and Miss Darcy._

Darcy stared between the letter in his hand and his dozing wife. The giddiness of the writer nearly jumped from the page to claw into him causing something akin to jealousy. It seemed his friend had great luck in affecting Mrs. Bingley to a point it was sickening to behold in the flowing script.

Fitzwilliam was an unusually sharp man and so understood the implication the words which needled him so – Elizabeth had bared a false account to her own sister. He knew Elizabeth to be honest and forthright, but surely the evidence in his hand proved it to be otherwise. How could she relay such words of great felicity in a marriage where it most certainly did not exist?

His eyes went wide, and the letter drifted into his lap. Was he not also being dishonest to his own sister, his family, and all of Society? Worse yet, he had asked it of Elizabeth as well. She was merely doing her duty to him by falsifying the truth of their marriage. His own motives were honorable and in the protection of others, but it still went sorely against all good principles given by his excellent parents. He had once been unfailingly scrupulous…to a point of pride, even.

Pride… yes, it seemed somethings were of greater motivation than principle. Elizabeth had brought him to the point of negating the moral ideals he held so dear.

He frowned knowing she did not deserve such harsh judgement. Had he always been truly as honest as he prided himself? No, he most certainly had not. It was not she who had damned his values.

There were several things in his life which required disguise of some sort – there was the issue of his wealth, something he cloaked with the guise of humility… as he should.

There was also the issue of his personal inclinations of morality. His closest friends and family knew the degree of virtue he sustained despite temptation (hence the earlier impromptu celebration in the stable of being set free as a man), but among his peers, he let them assume what they wished. Yes, he was known as stuffy, too much discerning, and even prude by some, but others ran away with speculation as to the feminine wares a man of his wealth could procure. He never made a point to refute any assumptions or whispers among the tables at White's of him surely having access to the cream of women he might bed if he so wished. He remained silent and feigned indifference on the subject to all who dared make a careless remark. But, why was he required to defend himself there anyhow? A man's personal business was his own, was it not?

More damning was the matter of Wickham, and excuses there fell hard to any attempt. How many times had he lied by omission or half-truth for that debauched fool in his younger years? What was his excuse for _that_ long-standing dishonesty?

At first, it was his father's peace of mind which caused him to cover the sins of Wickham's iniquity, and then there was Georgiana. He would lie, cheat, borrow, and beg to keep her from harm. There was not anything he would not do for a much-beloved sister – she was the most precious remains of a family torn asunder. He had disassembled much over her affair in Ramsgate. If there had ever been a reason to veer from the path of plainness and honesty, his sister's comfort and reputation justified any means called to the forth.

Whether by slip, vague, leading remarks, or all-out untruths, he had secreted his sister's perfidy from all and sundry except a few trusted souls who resided in this very house. Elizabeth did not even know of the events in that quarter. And, though not as much as a direct threat as Wickham had presented, his marriage in its present state could hurt Georgianna deeply. Whether damaging what was left of her innocent heart to know his marriage was filled with nullifying strife or whether society could assign her with questionable virtue from being the sister of a man who had compromised a low-born gentlewoman into an ill-formed union, disclosing the truth as it stood was not to be tolerated.

Yes, sometimes, things were grey enough to slip between the stark contrasts of good principles and dishonor. Sometimes, complicated justification prevailed.

Pushing aside guilty rationalizations, the pieces of Mrs. Bingley's letter fell further into locking order as his mind worked over the words in his lap. Jane, now Mrs. Bingley, had said her own happiness could not be complete until she was assured of Elizabeth's. He supposed it true. Elizabeth always championed the pure heart and goodness of her older sister.

Elizabeth had sacrificed her honesty to the peace of her loved ones.

He had reduced her to his own lowness.

He hated all of this. He wished he would have never accompanied his friend into Hertfordshire. Elizabeth would have been better if she had never met him. She would have been better if she had the capacity to hate him and stand up to his demands that she now play her part.

Rising from the chair and the burdening culpability, weary of current revelations and recriminations, he replaced the letter to the floor where he found it to search out his Aunt. His wife required her privacy – he intruded enough. There could not be a man more disgusted with himself. He would take another room and leave her in peace if at least for a small while. He would settle himself in a guest room and then brace the frigid air to ride out beyond the lands of Somerdale to bellow his frustrations into the woods surrounding Matlock. Otherwise, he knew not how he might survive supper much less the next fortnight.

* * *

The evening meal was one of enlightenment for many seated at the grand table, which despite the air of finery, supplied a sense of familial comfort and informality. Before all had assembled in the drawing room before supper, issues were given to Elizabeth to cease her good breeding and refer to them all with their Christian names.

Stephen, Lord Ashdown, and a man of three and thirty years asked, "Tell me, Mrs. Darcy, did you call your oldest sister _Miss Bennet_ while seated at the family table? Or, do you address that delightful aunt of yours, as _Mrs. Gardiner_ when taking tea in her parlor? Perhaps you only refer to your father as _Mr. Bennet_ when taking a turn through the gardens?"

"Thank you for the kind words of my _Aunt Gardiner_. I did not realize you were introduced at my wedding, _Your Lordship_."

With a nod of acknowledgement, he replied, "She was the most rational-looking woman there, present company excluded. Why should I not have contrived an introduction to her and your uncle? You will learn us Fitzwilliams are of a social nature and cannot endure to only converse with ourselves if we are expected to remain civilized in public. Your connections are quite excellent, _Mrs. Darcy_. I am hoping to count them among friends with your assistance. I even suspect your uncle to be a man of certain procurements, shall we say? But let us return to the material point. You must desist in your formality if you expect any of us to speak with you."

Astonished, humored, and grateful for the compliment to her dearest relations, Elizabeth succumbed to the use of her Christian name by those present.

"Oh Elizabeth, you must call me Georgianna… or even Georgie if you wish it." The young girl had full-on assaulted Elizabeth with an embrace. The natural shyness was returned when Georgiana quickly pulled back and grasped her hands together in front of her flowing muslin frock.

Isabella, on the other hand, did not demure after her own embrace. "Oh, Lizzy, may I please call you that? Will referred to you as _Lizzy_ in one of his letters to Georgie, and it is truly how we have now come to think of you. We are so delighted you are now family."

Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam must have been close to Elizabeth's own age if not a little older, but her infectious manner reminded Elizabeth more of her young Gardiner cousins when being given one too many indulgences. Of course, Elizabeth could never deny her little cousins, and she found it equally difficult to deny Isabella.

The young ladies squealed with delight when Elizabeth asked both to call her _Lizzy_ though she struggled to ever recall her husband addressing her in such an informal manner and was speechless to know he referred to her as such in correspondence either before or after their marriage.

Ruth, an elegant Viscountess with a kindness in her serene eyes, detached Isabella and gave Elizabeth a gentle embrace of her own. As Ruth pulled away, Elizabeth had to get a good look at Ruth's dark features to ensure it was not Jane.

"Elizabeth, truly, welcome to our family. Please call me Ruth and forgive Stephen for his deplorable manners. If he becomes a trial, you only need to say the word."

With a gleam in his eye and a penetrating stare raked over his wife, Stephen turned a sly eye to Elizabeth. "Yes, _Elizabeth_ , pray tattle on me to my wife. She is an expert on keeping me in line, and I must say I quite enjoy her punishments."

For the remark, the husband earned a baleful glare from his wife.

Elizabeth enjoyed the easy banter of this strange group of people but coloured at the Viscount's implications. There was something alive in the way Stephen looked at Ruth which made her wistful.

The Earl, his Countess, and their other son joined them with latter saying, "Mrs., Darcy, Elizabeth if I may so presumptuous, please be forewarned that as much as I would wish it, Ruth has no such hold over me, and therefore, my deplorable manners may go unchecked."

Elizabeth spun around as the gentlemen bowed. She could not even drop a curtsey before her nature demanded to address the sly look on the man's face. "Colonel Fitzwilliam – "

"Richard, please call me Richard or else I may be forced to ignore you, and it would be a shame, indeed, as my cousin has mentioned you are quite a match for a man who considers himself a wit."

There was a snort or two from where Isabella stood next to Georgiana.

Elizabeth finally recalled a curtsey to her hostess, and then turned to the woman's son. She was not afraid of the teasing deportment meant to challenge her. "Very well, _Richard_ , yes, you may call me _Elizabeth_ , that is if you mind your manners as I now can guess such is not always the case, and unfortunately, it does not seem you have a gentle wife," here she smiled at Ruth, "who would correct you when needed. My husband has also spoke of you, and you, good sir, shall not take me unaware. But, try me if you dare, and I shall be Mrs. Darcy to you." Elizabeth grinned back at the almost-handsome man whose wide smile was infectious. She began to feel at ease enough to banter with these warm people despite being entirely mortified during her earlier arrival.

The Earl joined the fray of laughter. "Mrs. Darcy, Elizabeth, if you grant me the honor as well?"

Elizabeth nodded to the older man, "Of course, Your Lordship."

"No, no. None of that if you please. I am now forevermore, _Uncle Henry_. And, if Richard gives you any trouble, his mother and I can still take the lad in hand. However, I truly well imagine you can handle him on your own after that little saucy speech. My nephew was correct about you, but, speaking of that boy, where is your husband? He is not one to be late nor one to miss a meal. That boy can eat a horse."

Elizabeth tried to hide her uncertainty concerning Fitzwilliam's whereabouts. "I, well, I am not – " Her relief was profound when the man himself entered the room striding to where she stood.

"I apologize for my absence. I took a ride while Elizabeth rested and have just finally had a moment to clean the dirt off - I hope you all are not waiting on me."

"Not waiting at all, Darce," Richard gave a bemused look to his cousin. "Your wife was just establishing herself in the pecking order. It seems that she has quickly shown herself above Stephen and myself."

Darcy looked around curiously at the smiles and the sheepish look worn by his wife.

His eyes lingered over the rest of her trying not to imagine her pretty green gown on the floor next to his bed, the one she now would repose upon, with her loose hair wet and over her back just as he had seen earlier in the day. Supper would be nigh on torture of the first order.

The Earl slapped his nephew on the back. "Yes, it seems this little woman of yours is a fine fit. It is only right that a Fitzwilliam man takes a wife who can deliver a spectacular set-down with such charm, and do not dare deny you are just as much Fitzwilliam even if your name is Darcy." The Earl then moved before Elizabeth taking her arm. "Come, my new niece, let us go into supper."

Elizabeth kept apace not imagine calling His Lordship by the title of _Uncle Henry_ as the man himself pulled out her chair, seating her next to Somerdale's mistress.

Elizabeth imagined the arrangement was by some design as the Countess arrived next on the arm of her nephew asking him to sit on her other side. Georgianna filed in next to her brother and Isabella took Elizabeth's right.

The first course was pleasant and Elizabeth's cheerful nature came alive in the presence of this curious family who without question considered her now as one of their own. Although her husband was called upon to make comments and contribute to the general conversation, he spoke quietly to his sister until his eyes went sharply across the table when Georgianna ventured outside of their private discourse to direct a question to her new sister.

"Elizabeth… um, Lizzy…?"

Elizabeth gave the girl her full attention and a silent smile of encouragement which was rewarded with further speech.

"I noticed you do not wear your betrothal ring. It was my mother's and even my Grandmother's at one time. I always have admired it. Brother told me he presented it to you…"

Panic welled in the breast of more than one Darcy in the dining room. By the look of Elizabeth and her brother, it was obvious something was not right. Georgiana's own face became tight with embarrassment at realizing she had asked something perhaps too personal.

Elizabeth made the first move to smooth over the situation although she struggled to release beyond more than a couple of words. She had long suspected her betrothal ring was not simply lost in her chambers. Tabitha had insisted she also looked everywhere for both rings and owned it was not she who had placed the lone wedding ring upon the night table.

What was she supposed to say to this young woman, with her innocent blond girls spilling from a crown of braids upon her angelic head? _I am sorry Georgiana, it was a lovely ring that I never aspired to deserve, and in a fit of bitterness, I threw it from my hand without compunction, thus giving your brother and your family legacy the ultimate disrespect. I have more than a little suspicion your brother has now opened his eyes to my wretched ways and has taken back the token he so generously gave, and I cannot blame him. I am sorry you have to now be called my sister. Please pass the potatoes?_

Elizabeth's suppositions were confirmed when her husband's hand reached over to take his sister's, and he said with a calming voice, "Dearest Georgie, Elizabeth admired the ring very much and is proud to wear it, but unfortunately the size was not quite a fit. I had dispatched it to the jeweler, but they could not have it prepared in time before we left for our travels."

Elizabeth did not know where she found the words or removed the guilt from her voice. "Yes, Georgie, it is very lovely, and I am grateful to have been given such an heirloom." Elizabeth concentrated on Georgianna and kept her husband's face from her periphery. She felt a deep regret at giving a reason for her husband to tell a blatant untruth and sought to conceal her unease and shame until she could reach her bed later in the evening.

Isabella seemed not to notice any tension. "A betrothal ring – oh, how romantic! Fitzwilliam Darcy, I never knew you to be such a sweet man. I can hardly think it of you. I take back all of the mean things I have said about your person… well most of them anyhow. Elizabeth, tell me, how did my cousin propose? Your romance must have been a whirlwind. What an exciting thing! And, to think of my stuffy cousin hiding a sentimental side. I must know all." She was like a child of six in a confectioner's shop – innocent, wide-eyed, and wanting to taste all until she made herself ill. Her excitement drew the notice of the rest of the table.

The Countess of Matlock, regal and completely silent in the recent exchanges, gave her daughter an unspoken reprimand and a turned a small, gentle smile at Elizabeth before giving an expectant look to her nephew. It seemed the Countess had a taste for sweets too.

Stephen shot his cousin a raised brow from down the table and rang his silver fork on the crystal of his glass. "Yes, Darcy, I think all of us would like to hear how exactly you proposed to Elizabeth. It is clear you are a mooncalf, so you might as well get on telling us before we ply you with brandy and make you speak. We are all curious for the details."

"Stephen Fitzwilliam!" The woman across from him, clearly a strong, noble woman in attempting to rein in her husband, bared a side of her character which her husband had earlier referred when he spoke of being kept in-line.

Elizabeth looked to Darcy and gulped the heavy air. The man himself looked rigid with a face of stone. The only telling sign of distress was when his finger loosened his cravat. Surely he would not mention how her father had found them in the grove and how he had felt honor-bound to marry the woman he had dallied with?

He had, from that second horrible day of their marriage, directed her to act as if all was well and natural between them. Goodness, he had just told a nonsense story of her betrothal ring being cared for by a jeweler when it was a lie, and it was smoothly done. Why could he not rise to the challenge of this new question if they meant to go along with their ruse?

The Earl laughed uproariously at his nephew's discomfort in a way Elizabeth was sure her father would have done, the lines which streaked over his forehead waggled in a strikingly similar manner.

"Hear, hear." Richard did his best impression of his father on the parliament floor and lifted his glass in a salute down the table. "Darcy, did you wax elegant on your wife's beauty before asking for her hand, or did you just come to the point and command her in that formal manner you like to use? I'll wager you must have stepped from your pedestal to actually ask as your wife does not strike me as one to be coerced." The man turned to look at the other subject of his address. "Elizabeth, I have no doubt your husband is the most besotted of men, and rightfully so as I am all but under your enchantment as well, but we all know he is awkward at best which makes the prospect of him on bended knee all the more worth the hearing."

Elizabeth's eyes never left her husband's now stricken face, but, when his eyes lifted to meet hers, and she saw something of an apology deep within. With sudden clarity, she knew his reason for such disquiet and regret.

There was no real story to tell. He had never actually asked for her hand, not in a way that counted.

Clearly, Richard knew his cousin well and was as close to the truth than anyone seated among the table could know. The Earl's second son was also correct in that Elizabeth was not a woman who could appreciate her life being commandeered without consequence. It was at the center of their strife – one party having never properly asked and the other having never been presented the opportunity to respond.

As much as Elizabeth did not like having her choices taken from her, she less liked the weariness on her husband's face. Elizabeth had always been staunchly protective of those close to her, and somehow Fitzwilliam Darcy had found a place within that circle. She drew upon her innate strength and managed a cheery voice which was in opposition to the level gaze she sent down the table to the pair of cousins who pushed just a little too far for her approval.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, you are correct to assume I do not fall into rank so easily, and therefore, you may conclude anything you wish." She turned a gentle smile to her dinner companion before giving her husband a conspiratorial smirk. "My dear Isabella, your cousin can indeed be quite charming and even persuasive when he wishes. However, I will have to leave it at that as there are a few moments in a woman's life which are too personal to share at a dinner table, even among such close family. But, please let me assure you, his proposals, nothing I am capable of repeating aloud, was certainly the stuff of novels."

The sighs and laughter rang down the table, and Darcy heard none of it. His eyes did not leave his wife's. _I had never asked her… not truly_. It was because she had given every indication she would answer against his own secret wishes. As she had once accused, he had relied on his so-called honor to get the deed done. Even when it was a foregone conclusion and she encouraged him to leave to Netherfield before seeking out Mr. Bennet, he went forward out of duty to his own selfish desires.

Why had he not asked? He should have asked – Richard was correct, he should have got on his knees – told her he was mistaken when he did not respond immediately to her question of his being in love – that there had never been a man to love a woman so and from the start, and he should have asked her to be his wife. Her rejection would have been easier than this.

His sister's voice cut through his thoughts. "Oh Brother, we understand you cannot share something so intimate, but surely you can tell everyone of how you met. I have never been as enchanted or entertained as when you told me."

Elizabeth was dumbfounded. As her husband was still under her observation, so she saw the horror in his eyes. This conversation, no matter how appalling, had now become almost comical, and she could always appreciate a good comedy, even at her own expense. _Why not let this madness continue?_ "Yes, husband, you most certainly should tell your family of _that_ evening unless you wish me to."

Darcy grabbed his serviette and blotted his mouth to purchase himself time. How he regretted sharing so much with his little sister. He was so blasted happy to marry Elizabeth that he foolishly just had to offer all kinds of now disconcerting tales to his little sister.

Linen clutched in hand, he looked at his family. They had never been a more rotten lot than they were on this evening.

"Elizabeth and I met at an assembly near her home." He stated the easy fact with an even voice and air of nonchalance.

All eyes fluttered with annoyance, and exasperation, to the frescoed ceiling, even his darling sister's. "Will, that is not how you told it to me."

Darcy was incredulous. As he gaped at Georgiana. He recognized her earlier hard-won ease drawing inward at his grim expression. _Very well, little sister, you raised the subject. It cannot be any worse than it is._

He adjusted his napkin again over his lap. "Georgie, if you think this story worth telling, then you must please take the honor."

He chanced a glance at his wife. Her intrigue was as great as his family's. This night would not end well.

Georgie cleared her throat and looked at him for reassurance which he begrudgingly but obligingly supplied. "Come now, sister, you were the one to mention it." He found a smile from where he did not know to prove his sincerity to the girl more than ten years his junior, and that seemed to set her on her way. Behind the shyness and inexperience of youth, it became clear she was as much a Fitzwilliam as the rest of them. Gathering her wits, she looked to ensure she had their rapt attention before giving her new sister a bright smile.

"Elizabeth, I have only heard this charming tale from my brother, so you must interject if I miss a material point."

"Charming? Oh, you may depend on any correction I may provide." Elizabeth was not sure which was more surprising, that Fitzwilliam was so open with his sister to tell his young charge of own his abominable behavior or that the tale was worth the telling at all.

"Well, as you all know, Mr. Bingley invited Fitzwilliam to his newly leased estate near Elizabeth's home in Hertfordshire. The morning he was to travel north, Aunt Catherine arrived without notice." Here Georgiana looked at Elizabeth. "I need not explain to the others the implication of such a visit, and I am sure Will has explained all concerning Lady Catherine to you, but my brother can be cross on occasion after a visit from our aunt. Brother, I hold no ill against you for that morning before you left."

Here Georgianna gave her brother a pat on the arm as he shrugged to everyone's amusement. "Will boarded the carriage and went to visit Mr. Bingley as planned, but he arrived late on account of our aunt… something else I am sure encouraged his sour mood as my brother is quite fond of punctuality. However, when he finally arrived, there was another… well… unwelcome surprise… oh, dear, I am not sure how else to put that, you see Mr. Bingley's sisters… well, they, neither of them are really so bad –"

Ruth confirmed with, "Yes, they are, dear Georgiana." And, Stephen punctuated with, "Indeed."

"You see, Fitzwilliam said he was unaware Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst would arrive to join their party so soon, and he expected to have a leisurely visit with his friend. But, as soon as Will was shown in, he said Miss Bingley insisted they all attend an assembly in the town nearby. It was to be in no less than three hours after his arrival which meant he was lucky to have had a chance for his supper."

Though Elizabeth was glad for this new perspective, she did not know quite what to make of Georgiana's enthusiasm, and Richard must have shared it for he could not hold back any longer. "Darcy, what I would have given to have seen you dragged to a country assembly in such a state! No doubt that harridan was hanging on, and I am sure Bingley was forcing you to dance. Elizabeth, I pray he was not such a boar if this is truly when he gained _your_ notice. He can be downright disagreeable about dancing even under the best of conditions."

Before Elizabeth could speak her own piece, Georgianna's voice rose in defense of her brother.

"Richard, my brother is a gentleman. He was besotted with Elizabeth almost at first sight. He would not dare insult a lady, no less one he fancied."

Elizabeth took a great gulp of her wine and clutched her knee to keep herself under good regulation. When she felt a familiar boot tap her foot, she pulled her slipper under her chair and out of reach. Ignoring her husband, she did her best impression of Jane's innocent calmness and asked, "Georgianna, you are giving a lovely narrative of events, will you please continue?" Her own playful nature could not help but escape when she then addressed the gentleman down the table, trying to hide any clue of mischief in her tone. "Colonel, please cease your interfering, for this is most regaling."

"Yes, Richard, mind what the ladies say. And, Georgie, bravo for that defense of your brother. The poor chap looks as if he needs it." The earl himself seemed ready as if to burst. Fitzwilliam Darcy's disposition was apparently well-known to his family, and they found it quite amusing.

Georgiana cleared her throat and went on with her second-hand account. "Thank you, Uncle Henry. So, as we all can assume, my brother said he was in no real state to enjoy an assembly with so many unknown to him and forgive me, in the company of Miss Bingley. His temper had already been severely tried for the day. Of course, Mr. Bingley, ever so amiable, danced with Elizabeth's sister, the elder Miss Bennet, as well as the other ladies of Elizabeth's neighborhood. My brother, in not wanting to give a false impression based on his overall discontent, declined many invitations of introduction that night, for which he expressed he was thoroughly ashamed of himself." Here Georgianna beamed up at the man who had mostly raised her. She knew him to be a good man in admitting when he was in the wrong.

"Will said he was most especially ashamed of foregoing an introduction to a _Miss Elizabeth_. She had been pointed out along with other ladies, and my poor brother did not have the clearness of mind to seek an introduction in order to solicit for her hand in a dance. However…" Georgiana stopped to look to her right for permission to continue, and it was reluctantly given.

Fitzwilliam wished this infernal torture to cease, but they were too far down the path not to reach the full embarrassment he was due. No, it was a perverse justice of his own foolhardiness. The last he could now do was encourage Georgiana in her speaking so bravely to a full table of adults. "Come, dearest, you are doing a fine job with your little story. I must ask you to continue to the diversion of all. It has a happy ending after all, does it not? And, it is no secret I am now married to the lady. Why should not my closest relations know how I met your new sister and made a fool of myself in the process?"

Elizabeth had not known Fitzwilliam to be so self-depreciating. And though she was still a little unsure if he was half-serious or all joking, she felt a little lightness in her chest. He sounded so very droll, and it was strangely pleasant to hear.

Completely missing anything resembling the sardonic, Georgie clapped her hands together and continued. "So… when Elizabeth was particularly brought to his attention as a dance partner by the good Mr. Bingley, Brother decided to keep himself reserved as to not offend anyone with his bad temper –"

A high-pitched bubble of mirth sounded which was promptly covered by an indiscreet cough.

In complete concern, the young narrator asked, "Elizabeth, are you well? Am I doing this justice?"

Elizabeth drank the last of her wine before a footman appeared from sight unseen to refill her glass. "Absolutely. I am just so pleased by how well you tell this. Pray, go on."

"Very well… Will said as he was hiding behind a potted plant from either Miss Bingley or was it some local man who would not cease going on about St. James? Something of that sort – oh, dear, I should not have said that anyhow… but, he while he was taking a break from the conversation of his hosts, he said he heard the most delightful sound he had ever heard. How did you describe it, Brother? The laugh of an angel?"

Isabella cried out, "Oh, 'tis the best story ever!" And, to that, no one could contain themselves. Uncle Henry slapped the table and even his wife covered her mouth at the absurdity of their William saying something so romantically gauche.

"Darcy! You were besotted, man. Did Cupid's arrow hit you in the buttocks, cousin?"

The smitten man himself sat back in his chair and raised his glass as if to toast himself for aspiring to new heights of humiliation.

Lady Fitzwilliam, although completely charmed by the whole of it, would not let her dinner table descend into utter brashness. "Stephen Fitzwilliam, you will not use such language in the dining room in the presence of ladies, young man." The countess, spine straight and giving a withering look to her son, resumed a gentleness to her niece. "Dear, please continue."

Darcy was done allowing his personal life to become fodder for his atrocious relations. "Aunt Ellen, I do believe that concludes it."

Unfortunately, the sweetest of them all spoke up with that innocent voice of hers. "No, it does not – ", and a rather stronger voice but one equally as lovely overshadowed them all. "Husband, that most certainly does not conclude this story."

Lady Fitzwilliam was more than mildly intrigued. "It seems, nephew, that according to your wife, your sister is not quite finished. It is almost Christmas, so in the spirit of love and generosity to your dearest family, you shall allow us to hear what we were denied seeing for ourselves. I am, myself, curious if your keen interest was rewarded at some point with a dance from the lady."

"Oh, Aunt Ellen, I am was not so fortunate until later at Mr. Bingley's engagement ball, but I shall explain. My brother said he was quite taken with the musical sound of her laugh… yes… that is one way he described it. He sought out her voice and found Elizabeth speaking with her friend. He said it was then in which he took a very long look at her and knew… Will, you said you just knew that she was something very special."

Georgie's chin was now in her hand and her elbow unceremoniously on the table as her sigh could be heard all the way in Matlock.

She looked between her brother and his new wife. Her joy at thinking her brother so happy kept her from seeing the shock in Elizabeth's eyes, and so she continued.

"He watched her all evening, but he missed every chance to dance with her. He said there was only one time she sat out, but that was before he had taken notice of her. And because he could not engage her for a set, he said he wished to dance with no other afterward that evening. Instead, he watched her, and said he was in a much better disposition when he returned to Mr. Bingley's estate for the evening."

Somewhere down the table, Richard was cackling like a hen and his older brother joined in. "I am sure he was in a better mood. Did you sleep much, Darce?"

Georgie's face was somewhere between irritation at being interrupted and not having the understanding of her oldest cousin's remark. Over her head, Darcy ignored Elizabeth but gave his cousin a final warning, and reached to pat his sister's hand again.

"Oh, and, this is most important part of the story..." She smiled shyly at her brother who capitulated with defeat and a shrug.

He would regret forever telling his young, romantic sister what she was about to relay to their family… especially what Elizabeth was about to learn of that night.

 _Every time he chanced back to his first night in the market town of Meryton, he could recall every sound and look from the moment he heard her laugh. He had looked down his nose and insulted her, not caring who may hear, before he had even taken one good look at her._

 _Not a minute later he heard her and knew regret. His eyes followed a sound which beckoned something inside of him. His sister was correct – he was in a foul mood that day which had turned out to change his life. After he connected the enchanting sound with her artless smile and brilliant eyes, all his troubles seemed to go away for that small perfect space of time._

 _He was not a sentimental man, at least he had never been up until that moment. No matter how he tried to resist, he could not help but follow her as if she was an irresistible lure trolling among her inferiors. He easily took the bait and hooked himself. Too bad he found himself eventually flayed._

 _He had wished to seek an introduction that night but was scared out of his mind, not only because he was unsure if she had heard his unkind words, but because he was afraid his life may forever change after hearing her voice directed to him and those eyes to lock with his. Fear of women and fear of an unknown feeling enjoined him to keep his distance though he kept imagining, over and over, what it might be like to hold her hand in his._

 _During the final dance of the evening, her dark curly locks were refusing to mind their pins. As dancers passed in front of him, his eyes seeking only her out, an unruly braid came loose, and with it, a blue silk ribbon fluttered from her directly to him, almost as if reaching out in connection. He stared at it just laying on the floor enticing him to take it, and as if making a monumental decision, he reached down to thread it between his fingers and before settling it into his breast pocket._

 _Not a minute later, he walked out the assembly room. It was now the work of many months which led him to believe the act of taking her ribbon and placing it against his chest had endeared her to a place where only she could belong._

 _He spent almost the next fortnight rubbing the silk along his thumb while affirming himself it was merely an infatuation with a mostly pretty face… which held the most strikingly handsome eyes he had ever beheld._

 _The morning she had presented herself in Netherfield's breakfast parlor, he determined he would win himself over her hold. And, such lasted all of hardly a day. When after his lips laid upon hers for the first time and he still felt more duty-bound than anything else to marry her, he would still secretly pull out the ribbon when logic and his rationalizations became too much to bear on a heart already decided._

 _He was a fool to not fully give over to it immediately._

Fitzwilliam Darcy had enough of dishonesty for the day. He would not ask Georgiana to conceal something he had willingly shared with her no matter if he sounded quite the cake. As embarrassing as it was for them to hear of his foolishness, his family were not gossips… or at least they only gossiped among themselves.

And, so, he did not stop his sister of telling them all how he lost his heart.

"Elizabeth was wearing a gown of light blue muslin with white trim and had matching blue ribbons weaved through her hair."

Darcy saw Elizabeth start. No doubt it was shocking for her to realize he knew exactly what she wore and exactly how she looked the night he first fell. She still did not meet his eye.

His sister ventured further along. "Will said during the last set of the evening, one of her braids came slightly unpinned and one of her ribbons fell from her hair. He picked it up, and he put it in his pocket where he carried it for weeks. He even showed it to me before the wedding."

So enthralled in what she was relating, Georgiana he did not take in all the shocked glances, and not least of all Elizabeth's breathless countenance. Most of them would never have thought Fitzwilliam to act with so little propriety at a public assembly, two were impossibly lost in the romance of it all, and one could not believe what she had just heard. _That_ one's heart had dropped to her stomach.

The Countess spoke and inclined her head to Elizabeth but spoke to her nephew. "I take it the lady is still unaware you pilfered a token?"

And, though the question was not directed toward her, Elizabeth answered, finding it very difficult to lift her eyes from her lap. "No, Your Ladyship, the lady was quite ignorant."

"Ah, I see. Well, let us rectify one thing, you must address me as Aunt Ellen, please."

Elizabeth nodded her head, and she did not come out of her current haze until Isabella broke through and exclaimed, "It was love at first, or rather _second_ sight for my cousin. I would have never believed it of him. Elizabeth, was it so for you as well?"

All eyes looked to hers. She felt rather than saw her husband's gaze which held more questions than answers. It was all really too much, and so Elizabeth evaded as she always had. She put on her brightest smile and lifted her head high in courage to everyone but the source of her distress. "Oh, no. I am sorry to disappoint, but things cannot be so easy for my husband lest the amusement and entertainment of such a beginning be diminished. You see, your nephew, cousin, and dear brother left out a crucial detail."

"Elizabeth." Darcy demanded his wife look to him by the soft passion in his voice, and he affected his best pleading look not caring if he brought himself low by doing so. "I do recall apologizing for the slight I gave you that night, did I not?" The entreaty on his face turned into a slow-spreading smile. Perhaps it was both who recalled what had taken place in Netherfield's library before and after the apology in question was issued.

When a blush rose upon her cheeks, he sat back with a now victorious expression not caring who saw his unguarded look.

"Very well, then I shall leave the most entertaining part of your sister's story unsaid, sir." He watched as his wife studied her fingernails trying her best and miserably failing to seem unaffected.

This little exchange was met with dissatisfaction all around. No one enjoys being left out of a secret conversation. Isabella spoke over her brothers. "No, we know Will too well. There is something you are keeping from us, and it must be too good. It is most ungenerous for you not to share after we have been told this much."

Elizabeth joined in with the laughing but for a different reason. "You all are unpardonable, so much so, I must say you remind me of my own family. And, the surest way of taking revenge is to say nothing at all. But, perhaps it will not hurt to leave you with the fact that his apology for his poor, yet unspoken behavior, was quite pretty, indeed." Elizabeth smiled smugly to herself and took a bite of the delectable cream which now sat before her.

The Earl was the one to heave down the gauntlet in the middle of the refined dessert course. "If this bull-headed nephew of mine is capable of making a pretty apology for some apparent slight you are unwilling to share, then you should let us hear it, because I refuse to believe it otherwise."

"Uncle, are you calling my wife's honesty into question?" Darcy was not truly offended, but he gave his uncle a glare before breaking into a laugh which crescendoed until it receded again into the intensity of Elizabeth's eyes. "As to my apology, I believe I said something along the lines of offering my sincerest regrets and reaffirming I found her most beautiful and tempting in every possible way. She should no longer have thought otherwise even if a terribly ill-tempered, pig-headed man spoke rubbish at some country dance before he had one good look at her. I instantly regretted one of the most untrue things I had uttered in my life."

Elizabeth was still with her spoon suspended in her hand as she bathed in his tender words. This went beyond their goal of passing off a credible marriage. For him to speak so boldly in front of his family, his sister even, she could not understand it.

Had his first apology affected her in this way?

 _He had caressed her face with his fingers. She had allowed his kisses for quite a while that particular night, and then they had argued over something when they both came to their senses. That is when she had thrown his ill-tempered words the night of the assembly in his face._

 _But then he apologized for calling her only tolerable. '…please allow me to tell you that you are so beautiful… you are more than tempting, and in every way – mind and body. Do not think otherwise.'_

She would always recall those words even if she pushed them away. And, it was the kiss he had given her after he uttered those words which had set her current world in motion.

"Elizabeth, was it then when he apologized that you fell in love with my cousin?" Bless her, but Isabella finally took one question too far for Elizabeth's peace of mind. She could not respond and was grateful for her new Aunt by marriage to intervene.

"Isabella, I think we have had enough sport with the newlyweds for one night, and we are bordering on rude. Come now, all of us. Let us behave in some orderly fashion before too much brandy and wine is consumed and we all fall to pieces again. Ruth, what say you? Shall we lead the ladies out and leave our gentlemen for a bit?"

"Yes, a wise suggestion. Let us retire to the music room and leave these men to their drink. Elizabeth, please allow me to escort you."

The gentleman all stood as the ladies prepared to leave, but Darcy made his way across the table. "Ruth, thank you, but actually, allow me a brief word with my wife. Elizabeth?" As she nodded, he looked to his uncle, "I will return momentarily."

Darcy led a willing Elizabeth to an ante room and stepped away from her choosing to study a painting of some long-faced Earl from generations past. He spoke to the face in the portrait rather than chance his wife.

"Elizabeth, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for that inquisition. I will speak with my Uncle and Cousins and demand they act with some sense. By heaven, that was intolerable. They will not gossip, you have my word."

"Did you truly steal my ribbon?"

He spun around on his heel and forced himself to keep his feet rooted to the spot they were currently fixed upon. _Oh, God._

"Do you know me to be untruthful, madam?"

"Sir, do you wish me to answer that question?"

There was more than one moment of thick silence before Fitzwilliam knew he must accept defeat.

"No, of course, you should not answer such a stupid question. But, yes, I did take your ribbon. Would you like me to return it? I have no idea what possessed me to do such a thing and then to tell my sister of it. I had no idea she would ever think to repeat such a story. You have my sincerest apologies."

"Fitzwilliam, she is clearly overjoyed you are married, regardless… I cannot count it against her, can I? And, I know you cannot, either. What is done is done. As far as my ribbon, I have no need for it. I did not even know it was missing. And, do not make a fuss over the behavior of your family as it will surely only draw more attention. They will eventually be satisfied with the topic of our marriage, and things will settle into something resembling normal. But, in the meantime, I ask that you watch out for what is currently above your head."

Elizabeth stepped closer to pick a berry as she was shaking her head in either disgust or amusement, Darcy could not tell. "Sir, I do not wish for a repeat performance."

Elizabeth gave her husband an arch smile before placing the berry in his hand and leaving the room without a further word.

As he took pleasure in the movement of skirts and the warmth in his palm, he would be lying to himself to allow he was not disappointed by not receiving a kiss. Regardless, he was oddly left satisfied as she walked away and he gathered his wits before venturing back to his uncle's table for what was to be several laughs at the expense of himself. Richard would rue the day he fell hopelessly in love and into the marriage lot.

* * *

 **A/N:** "If a book is well written, I always find it too short." Well, I pray the inverse is not shown to be true in this case. Alas, my dilemma of too many words strikes me down again. To the recent guest reviewer who was confused by thinking the previous chapter was the end, I can only laugh and wish it to be so. I _will further add… now you understand there is still more to go, please elaborate on any other confusion you have_ – the feedback is inordinately helpful.

You only get one chapter today. (Actually this should be two chapters, but I plan to cut part of it later - just couldn't decide which part yet.) The next chapter is in progress but a mess. (Hell, this chapter is a mess too.) …too many words vying to rearrange themselves in a contrary order. However, the chapter after THAT is ready to go and one of my favorites. I think there are about 12 chapters after this chapter until we finally get to the end…a sunshine and rainbows kind of end. Your angst shall be rewarded, no doubt.

Thank you for your patience and continuing to read. When I take this down to edit, I do plan trim quite a bit of the verbose fat which is in desperate need of an author's version of Jenny Craig. But, until then, in the spirit of the first draft, you get to see this story in all its unedited glory lingering in a sea of wordiness. (See even my notes are absurd.)

Also, I do plan to go back do things like review for consistency (names, plotlines, characterization), so any critique is helpful.

Know your reviews - words of constructive criticism, damning frustrations, and sweet praise spur me onward. My heart skips every time I see an email notification. If I have not reached out to you personally to thank you, I will try to do so. Every word is read and appreciated.

Also, to The Reader, your review of my last chapter was addressed by me directly in the reviews since I could not reply directly. Go back and look if you did not see it, and please let me know if you have a further comment. I'd be happy to address.

As a general note, replying to guest reviews is difficult without a way to reach out to you, so please feel free to reach out to me via PM or on FB (under May Smith – my avatar and cover are garden pics) if you require a response.

Oh, and I want to go back to a review from quite a long time ago which asked why Jane and Bingley sped down the aisle. I replied with two reasons but purposely failed to elaborate. I will do so now. The first was I did not wish for their relationship drama to interfere into D & E's relationship – had to take that excuse out of the picture. ODC needed to muddle the thing themselves. The second reason was that I wished for Jane's blissful nonsense to contrast to Elizabeth's… well, not-so-blissful nonsense… something like a foil of sorts.

Two more things: I will go back and fix boxing day reference – don't think it was official until 20 years later although it seems the tradition dates back to the 1600s – just need to fix the reference. Also – there is a reference to Stephen is Viscount Ashdown- not the viscount Septon as I mentioned in the previous chapter – I really need to keep a minor character list!


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** Christmas in July!

* * *

"Well, William. That should suffice to put my sister in her place. I'll send young Thomas from the stables to Kent straightaway with this missive. I believe this particular groom was sweet on one of the chambermaids when I was Rosings earlier in the month. Mayhap I steal one of Cathy's servants and deliver a _coup de grâce_ in one fell swoop?" The Earl of Matlock gave a devilish grin as he pressed his signet into the hot drippings of wax.

"Thank you, Uncle. My solicitor should be delivering Lady Catherine my final resolve no later than the morrow." Fitzwilliam did not remark on the Earl's servant's personal business. His Uncle was just as interfering as Lady Catherine although his interference was rarely born of selfishness.

"William, to be clear, you do understand even if my sister were to reject either of our threats and press for breach of promise against you, nothing shall be gained from it except some foolish talk in the _ton_? Your aunt and I are truly not concerned for our family's reputation over this. Most anyone who can recall anything of my sister in Society knows she has attics to let. What does your wife say to this irritating business? Surely she is not so concerned as you seem to be. By God, the deed is done anyhow. It is not if you can un-marry your wife? I do not understand how Cathy even found an attorney to support her in her preposterous claim after I all but told her she was powerless in the matter."

Fitzwilliam felt a course of cold run through his body at the mention of his wife. "Uncle Henry, Elizabeth knows none of this. She did not see Lady Catherine the day she arrived in town and burst into my home. I was assured she was with the housekeeper and far away from the scene my aunt caused. I do not wish to trouble Elizabeth with any of this unless absolutely required."

The Earl of Matlock furrowed his brows and disapproval dripped from his voice. "Young man, let me give you a piece of advice. Do not keep things from your wife. Complete honesty is required in a marriage. For heaven's sake, your aunt would skin me alive like one of those savages in America if I kept something like that from her. Mark my words, son, you will learn this lesson whether it be from my words of wisdom or when your wife learns of this sorry business and whatever other secrets you deign to keep. Trust me in this matter; I am fortunate to have my scalp on my head after the first year of my marriage. Praise be to the almighty I learned years ago women always have a way of finding things you try to hide. Trust your wife, Fitzwilliam."

"I shall consider it, Sir." Darcy chaffed his Uncle's meddling and insinuations… how could he understand?

He offered the Earl a bow and formally thanked him for writing a letter to Lady Catherine in which the Lady was threatened with the equivalent of Bedlam should she choose to go against the family and press the ridiculous breach of promise suit as she had threatened that fateful day when she descended upon Darcy House shortly after his marriage.

Darcy's own ultimatum was in route to his tiresome aunt, and his was more of the pecuniary and retaliatory kind. He did not take well to being threatened… family or no. Nor did he like to wield his ungodly wealth and the power it brought, but he would not have his marriage embroiled in the courts.

He was truly thankful Mrs. Ellis confirmed Elizabeth had been mostly ignorant of the Lady's visit. His marriage had enough issues. Elizabeth did not need the weight of knowing not all his family approved of their marriage and was willing to drag their names through the very public legal mud.

Darcy walked towards the stables to find his favorite horse. He had made a solitary day trip to Pemberley the day after Christmas. Given his inspiration from Elizabeth's personal care of the boxes prepared in London, Fitzwilliam had wished to be at Pemberley to personally to thank his servants and tenants he so appreciated. In fair acknowledgement of his recent wedding, he wished to personally provide extra coin to all of those he could possibly see in the span of one afternoon.

His excuse of riding his prized stallion, Harry, back to Somerdale was the weak excuse he gave to Elizabeth when he denied her and Georgiana's request to travel with him. Surprisingly it was Georgie who put up argument and not so much Elizabeth. Perhaps she could sense his objections were more than the excuse of a quick trip on horseback.

As much as he loved Pemberley more than any other place, he could not imagine sleeping a night there in the master's chambers knowing the mistress's suite should be occupied with an open door between. He could not imagine cresting over the rise in the lane which showed his favorite prospect of his home when he would be seated next to a wife who would take her place in his home but not his heart.

Darcy pulled his collar up to the cold as he found himself before the stable doors. He prayed Stephen and Richard would not find him. He required solitude. Since coming to Somerdale, aside from his day trip to Pemberley, he had found nothing but intrusive noise which clouded further the confusion of his mind. The expectations amplified his hurt. Despite loving these people more than any other, his family had overwhelmed him, and it seemed, unknowingly, they did their best to overwhelm his wife.

Elizabeth, of course, easily rose above it all and even at times seemed to take delight in ridiculousness. Well, perhaps excepting those instances where someone chose to vex her with personal questions regarding her husband.

Since their first family supper, Elizabeth grew more talented and evasive in her responses as to lead them all to believe what they wished without exposing nor hiding the truth. He had never heard a falsehood from her mouth after reading of the ones she must have written to her sister, Mrs. Bingley. Her skill in conversation was a great irony to observe when he knew her demurring from answering certain questions led one to think the opposite of the true state of her feelings. For his own part, he mostly remained silent or allowed the rescue of his wife.

With his family in constant need of attention from himself or Elizabeth, they were rarely forced alone, and neither did they seek the sole companionship of one another after they had exchanged gifts the evening of Christmas. Certainly, they both made a deliberate attempt to avoid being caught out under mistletoe though it was not to say they did not give a credible showing of marital bliss when the issue was compulsory. In busy moments, he would even fool himself.

It was these times of pretensions in which were the most brutal. They would often share a meaningful look or a snippet of private, whispered conversation which proclaimed their supposed intimacy, sometimes it was not even forced but out necessity nevertheless. Still, it conveyed more confidence than which really existed. Or the worst of occasions, their physical attraction would rear up and manifest into some degree of touch and proximity.

Christmas Day was perhaps the most difficult of his marriage since those first few days he wallowed in his study in complete despair.

The afternoon of the day of the Lord and Savior's birth, the family was settled in Aunt Ellen's drawing room with warm wassail and roasted chestnuts beginning their annual exchanging of gifts.

All were amused at Richard's antics. Samuel, son of Stephen and Ruth, was chasing his uncle around the room of elegant but comfortable furniture with the new wooden sword he had just been gifted from said uncle. Richard played a slain Frenchman who kept reviving and attacking the young man with playful vigor.

Uncle Richard perhaps had too much experience in that quarter.

Darcy's cup and saucer were threatened when the furniture shook and a little boy vaulted into the lap of his wife who was seated next to him on the sofa.

"'Lizbeth, save me from the Frenchy."

"Samuel Henry George Fitzwilliam! Richard!" Ruth, normally sweet and somewhat unassuming, was on her feet hailing after her energetic son and equally exuberant brother-in-law.

"Well, Samuel, it seems it will be your mother to save you from the French. Ruth, I do not mind, truly." Elizabeth swept her arms around the little brown-haired boy in breeches. "But, Samuel, your mother does not wish you to bound around so I am sure, and you should mind her… especially on Christmas. Perhaps we shall go into the snow later and you and our sister can bowl me over all you wish. Uncle Richard may need a break from playing the enemy as well, and I shall take his place. Do I not make a menacing soldier?" She growled, then laughed, and finally snuggled the little boy before releasing him to his mother.

Darcy felt his heart drop to his stomach.

As he stared after his wife, he felt something else drop into his lap. It was in the form of a fluffy little girl with golden curls which reminded him of Georgiana not even ten years prior. "Uncle Darcy, shall we go into the snow with Elizabeth and Samuel?"

He did not speak as his sole attention was yielded to his wife. The softness she held in her eyes as she watched his little niece wrap her arms around his middle made his heart ache. He wondered if she also silently asked if they would ever create a family.

A primal urge to be a father was compressed by a primal fear he would indeed not.

It was the lovely rose color which settled upon Elizabeth's cheeks which requested he look away and into the eyes of the sweet little niece upon his lap.

His own words would still not come, so his wife, ever more confident in speech during the moments he found only silence, reached for the plump hands of a girl not quite five.

"Dearest, have no worry. I shall convince your Uncle Darcy to play with us. But first, should you like a present? I have one just for you and one just for your brother."

Both children were delighted with their gifts, a small wooden boat for the young master and a doll with a delicate handmade dress for the young miss. Their initials were embroidered into the sail and dress respectively. The little ones were thrilled and the adults in the family were delighted Fitzwilliam had chosen such a thoughtful, caring wife.

To Georgiana, Elizabeth gifted a pair of rather elegant lace gloves, and in a scene which was quite moving, she provided Georgiana a collection of fables. Georgiana did her best to hide her surprise when she unwrapped the simple brown paper to a few volumes with worn covers and titles leafed in French.

Elizabeth watched carefully in hope as Georgiana began to flip through the volumes. Her new sister's expression changing to quizzical then full of mirth finally settling into a serious gratitude after reading a particular passage noted within.

Georgiana, on the other side of Fitzwilliam, bent forward to quietly speak. "Elizabeth, these must have been yours?"

"Yes, my father gifted me La Fontaine's _Fables_ when I was a young girl learning to read French. We would sit for hours discussing their hidden meanings and how they applied to my young life. Our discussions were most enlightening and instructive as I grew up, and I cherished that time with my father. I can recount almost all the notes we have made together in margins, and I thought perhaps you might find pleasure or usefulness in them." Elizabeth was lowered her voice as she spoke across Darcy to Georgiana. "If you do not like them, or would like something else – "

Georgiana reached her hand over her Brother to clasp Elizabeth's. "No, I love them... dearly… so much. I shall treasure these. I have never received such a thoughtful gift, and I look forward to you and me reading them and discussing them together. I am truly honored for you to pass along to me something so personal. It will be as if I am getting to know you even better than I already feel I do after only two days. Thank you… sister."

Darcy did not think he could take much more of being moved by the thoughtfulness of his wife without losing control of his emotions. He knew Georgie's life was devoid. Their Fitzwilliam cousins were a fine substitute for the missing pieces, but Elizabeth filled in the remaining space.

He was almost jealous of Elizabeth's attention and consideration. How he would wish to read the notes in those volumes for himself! He would like to discover the ideas and lessons which shaped the woman she now was.

More offerings were passed around with gracious exclamations. Elizabeth's gifts truly proved to be the most thoughtful, and Darcy could not puzzle out how she knew what precisely to present his family as he had not even described them all until they were on the lane to Somerdale. On his own, he had purchased his family gifts and expected to bestow them as from both he and his wife.

"By ho, Elizabeth, what is this?" The Earl lifted a label-less dark bottle with heavy wax dripping over its corked stopper. Stephen examined a similar one he had been gifted.

"Uncle Henry," there was a small hesitation in her voice at the unfamiliar address, "for your protection and mine, it will have to remain a mystery. I took the chance you would not find me unpatriotic. But, it is my understanding you may wish to open that bottle on an occasion when only the best Cognac will do."

Stephen stood from his chair and gave something that looked like a jig. "Ha, Darcy, your wife is quite the treasure! You married up, old chap! Elizabeth, please pass along my thanks to your most excellent connections. I do hope when we are all in London next they will agree to come to dinner." Stephen was beaming at his gift as Ruth rolled her eyes heavenward.

Darcy looked to his own wife imagining that which was bottled to be the very same he had once sampled in Mr. Bennet's study, and though Darcy's wealth purchased much, it had not purchased something so fine as what Mr. Bennet had procured through what he now suspected was Elizabeth's uncle in trade. There was no doubt that man would never be so generous to himself in the future after their last almost violent meeting. Still, he could not help bait his wife seeing the triumphant expression she held. "Elizabeth, no smuggled goods for your husband? You would risk your neck for my uncle and cousin, but not me?"

"Sir, I have seen you in your cups and did not think it wise nor worth it."

The gentlemen in the room sputtered. Georgiana was scandalized and the Countess pretended to be so.

It was Isabella who obtained control over her laughter first. "Oh Georgie, no one goes to the gallows over some French wine. Otherwise, our aristocracy would be dwindled down just like the very French who produce the stuff. But, Cousin William, imbibed to excess? Elizabeth, I have seen it once, and he was most ridiculous, so I can only imagine. I think _I_ can handle my wine better than he, and he is surely twice my size. But, I am sure if you have seen it, then there is a story there, and I would dearly love to hear it."

"Dear, I think not." Elizabeth nodded to Georgie and reached a hand out almost in apology for mentioning something so indelicate. Luckily the younger children were playing together in a corner of the room minding themselves.

Darcy should have felt embarrassment or irritation that Elizabeth would make sport of him, but the way she knowingly laughed made him feel they shared moments just for them. He had been quite cup-shot at Netherfield on one particular occasion, but he was not so gone as to not recall the feeling of flirting with her unimpeded by his natural reserve.

Something about the look in her eyes and the lightness in her voice as she said she would not stick her neck out on his behalf made him wished to always be teased by her… and to indulge himself to the point of not caring enough to restrain from teasing her mercilessly in return.

Without thinking, he gave them all a devilish smile and covered Elizabeth's hand which rested in her lap with his own larger one. It was several minutes before either of them had realized their connection and pulled away.

When all the things had been unwrapped and some festive music performed by the ladies, the Earl proclaimed his grandchildren should go bundle themselves well for he was taking them on a sleigh ride before the sun was too low in the sky. "Who else shall come with us?"

Georgie and Isabella agreed to accompany the children, and Elizabeth looked expectantly at her husband. At her wordless command, he went over to pat the little ones on their heads telling them he and Elizabeth would be along shortly after they found their outerwear.

The Earl himself had raced the sleigh around the park with bells jingling the air to the delight of all. Georgie and Isabella sat in the front with the Earl taking turns learning to drive the horses, and the children were snuggled warmly on the laps of Darcy and Elizabeth.

Once arrived back to the front of the house, a great battle of snow and laughter ensued.

Darcy leaned down to his nephew. "Gather your snowballs and let us get the women." Samuel with snowballs piled high in his hands was hoisted in one of Darcy's arms before they charged the ladies.

"Now!"

Shrieks and snow flew around. Something dreadfully cold hit Fitzwilliam in the back of the head and slid under his greatcoat. He turned around to a sheepish wife who squeaked a high-pitched cry before she ran away.

His limbs were much longer no matter that she was a practiced runner. He overtook her and easily hoisted her in the same arm that earlier lifted little Samuel.

He found the nearest drift behind a clump of leafless trees and threw them both into the powdery cold which washed around them in a tremulous twinkle.

Their laughter and breathlessness mingled during their struggle to heap snow at each other. He got a handful of it down the back of her cloak as she pounded her fists into his chest in protest.

"Turnabout, my dear, is only fair." He whispered it into her ear as they both lay adrift in the bank, limbs entangled.

Her protests stopped with her hands splayed onto his chest. Neither moved.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head into the snow, the cold non-existent upon realizing her husband was practically atop of her. His head and warm breath were nuzzled into her neck.

"Happy Christmas, Fitzwilliam."

"Happy Christmas, Elizabeth."

Their words were quiet. And save for Darcy deftly moving his gloved hand from her hip to cradle her head from the snow, very still they remained.

"Sir, I have a gift for you. I did not wish to give it when among your family."

Darcy lifted himself from his wife and extended his hand. "Elizabeth, you need not get me anything, but I have something for you as well. Perhaps when we retire tonight, I will come to your room and we can exchange gifts?"

Elizabeth brushed the snow from herself and stood on her toes to brush it from her husband's hair before he replaced his hat. Her eyes never met his, and her ruddy cheeks were surely caused by the snow. "Yes, I would like that."

He extended his arm to his wife and properly walked back the group who was preparing to go back into the house to change for dinner.

The merriments carried onward, but the newly wedded couple was most notably quiet throughout the rest of the revelries. Not the same could be said for the remainder of the party.

Fine wine had flowed along with the spiced wassail, and Stephen was much too eager to taste his prize of the day. It was proclaimed after dinner and in the company of the gentlemen that the birth of the Christ child was only the very best of reasons to celebrate with only the very best of brandies.

By the time the young children had sleepily scurried to their beds under cover of their nurse, all but Georgiana, Elizabeth, and Darcy had given away their sober minds to a drunken cheerfulness. Even the Countess, who hid it well, drank one too many glasses of sherry.

Richard sauntered to the sofa and squeezed himself between Darcy and Elizabeth. "Say, Darce, go play us a merry tune. I shall keep your wife company, and we will lead everyone in song. Ruth, say, I need another beautiful woman at my side. Surely Stephen can spare you, and you may come sit with me and Elizabeth."

"Richard, though my wife thinks I am a wild boar at times, and rightly I am, it is still one step up over a common pig. Elizabeth, if I were you, I would shove the swine into a chair of his own despite this being Christmas and all. But, Darcy, he is right and you should go sit at the instrument and regal us with some song. Or, Georgie, perhaps you will? You did not get into the wine, dearest, did you?"

"Yes, Will and Georgie, please play us some carols. You two play the best and so well together." Ruth gave a little hiccup which blemished her cultured tones. Isabella offended she was not asked, whined at not being included among the finest performers in the room.

On their little couch, Darcy's head was in his hands, Richard was a jolly mess, and Elizabeth stared at the room in disbelief. They were a room full of drunkards, charming teasing ones at that, and they seemed to think her husband had some musical abilities.

Richard settled both his arms around Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth squeezing them to his sides. "Come now, cousin. Let us have some music before we call it a night."

Darcy leaned into his cousin and his words were not soft enough for Elizabeth not to overhear. "Richard, as much as I tolerate you and somehow find affection for you, you are a lout. Remove your arm from around my wife, and please refrain from breathing on me." Darcy then nudged his snickering cousin to his feet and quickly followed.

"I am sorry, I am not inclined to entertain you all, but you all seem to be doing a fine job of entertaining one another. Georgie, it is time for you to retire. I will as well. Happy Christmas to everyone. Elizabeth?"

"Of course." Elizabeth gave them all her best smile, and it was only Darcy who noticed something falter behind it. "All of you have given me a delightful Christmas despite it being my first away from my own family. I cannot thank you enough for your welcome and taking me as one of your own."

 _Oh, I am a prized idiot_. Not once had Fitzwilliam thought that this was her first Christmas away from her beloved relations. He had not even offered acknowledgment of the sacrifice she made to be with his family. Yes, he had asked her if she wished to stop in Hertfordshire during their travels into Matlock, but he had not given it further thought since she declined his initial offer.

He watched as she accepted the loving embraces of the ladies while Stephen rose to bow over her hand. Of course, he then lost his balance and stumbled back into his chair to the laughter of Elizabeth.

At least she was not completely put off by the ridiculousness of his mother's family as he would have been by the absurdity of hers.

The Earl would not let Elizabeth escape without one of the burly, fatherly clutches he liked to give Isabella and Georgie. When Richard attempted to offer the same, Aunt Ellen tugged her son back by the collar and admonished his with a look only a mother could give to her naughty son. He very properly bowed over Elizabeth's hand and then picked up Georgie to swing her around before dropping her and giving her bouncing curls a little pat.

The clear-minded Darcys strode up the stairs together in silence, and both Elizabeth and Darcy walked Georgie to her room. "Happy Christmas, sister. I plan on making a day trip to Pemberley tomorrow and will leave at first light. Can I bring you anything from home?"

"Will, can I come with you and Elizabeth? I would love to see Mrs. Reynolds. Please?"

Darcy looked down into the face of his sister. He was loathe to deny her. He then looked down to his wife. He had a presentiment she was about to ask to accompany him as well by the stunned but curious turn of her expression. "No, poppet. I am to go alone although I may have Mr. Johnson ride with me. And, I'm going on horseback. I will be back just after nightfall. You will not even know I am gone."

His sister knew better than to question him. So, he gave her a kiss atop her head and said his goodnight before grabbing Elizabeth's hand and placing it on his sleeve.

She leaned into him to keep her words from being overheard. "Sir, I cannot help but think it unfair for you to deny your sister. When was the last time she was at her home? And, I cannot deny my own curiosity to see Pemberley. Especially when it is so close."

He gave a huff wishing she would not press him. He could not explain things to her in full. It would be a death knell for him to take her to what should have been _their_ home. "I do not have the time to take a carriage tomorrow, nor do I wish it since I plan to retrieve my horse from the stables there. And, Somerdale is practically a second home to both Georgie and me. Is it not sufficient? I also have need to be off prior to dawn to give myself adequate time. I am sorry, but you cannot accompany me."

"Very well, then."

She ceded to him quicker than he expected.

But, of course, her nature prevailed not ten seconds later.

"How long are we to stay here with your family? Where do you plan to cart us off to next? May we at least return to London? And, what of Georgiana?"

"My sister will return to London when her companion, Mrs. Annesley, returns from visiting her family for the holiday. My aunt and uncle will also be in town for the Season, so she will be well cared for. As to you and me, it depends upon some business I have. I will inform you as soon as I have an adequate answer."

They were now at Elizabeth's door and stepped apart. This should be his chamber too. It always had been. But, now like everything in his life, she had taken over. He felt like retrieving the bottle of brandy, or what was left of it, from the dining room. It was damned good, and he needed to numb his heart after a day which at some moments had spurred something like hope.

They impression of her body under his as they lay knotted together amidst the soft, white snow would likely haunt his nights for days.

As would the vision of her hair whipping around her bonnet as she held the mitten-clad hands of Stephen's precious children.

They had all been nestled together on the sleigh bench. Laughter joined with the ringing bells to produce a sound so sunny it would protect a man's heart against any cold winter's night.

He had never contemplated how much he looked forward to children one day until this morning when her delightful smile brought out the joy in Stephen's children. What joy could she bring to their children? Him?

He felt a hand on his sleeve bring him from his faraway meditations. A pair of young, dark eyes framed by rounded, freckled cheeks and bouncing chocolate curls held his mind in a future he knew was too much of a wish.

"Sir?"

What would the voice of their daughter sound like?

"Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth's voice was finally loud enough to engage him in the present.

"My apologies, I have much on my mind. Happy Christmas." He bowed and turned on his heel.

"Fitzwilliam… wait." She ran to catch him. "I do have a gift for you, remember? Will you please come accept it?"

"Oh, yes. Of course. And, I have one for you. Give me a moment to retrieve it. I will knock on your door in five minutes."

She nodded and went to her chamber. In less than two minutes he stood before the only room he had known at Somerdale and for the first time, knocked.

She opened without a word to him.

He handed her a bundle of white paper secured by red velvet ribbon.

"The wrapping is very prettily done. I did not realize bow making was among your talents, sir." She moved the ribbon as to preserve the delicate, symmetrical loops. "If your cousins are to be believed, it would seem you also have some musical talent on the pianoforte… though I had never suspected such a thing. I am all amazement."

He would throttle Richard and Stephen at the first opportunity. "It is only a meager talent, far less superior to my bow crafting skills."

She held the papered bundle to her chest and laughed as she found a seat on the bed. He tried to not think of joining her there and kept his back close to the door.

"And how does it rank in comparison to skills of holding your drink? Your family is certainly adept in the art."

"Well, I think I should count my fingering at the keys somewhere above my ability to keep my head after drinking more than three glasses of brandy. But, speaking of which, do tell me how you knew to bring such as a gift for Uncle Henry and Stephen? French? To a Lord of the house no less? He loved it, but your courage far surpasses what I ever imagined."

"Thank you for the compliment, Fitzwilliam."

"And, the scarf for Richard with the tag embroidered with _Fortis Fortuna Aduivat_? And the books for Georgie and everything else? I never told you of my family, however, I should have. But, how could you know? For I think your gifts put all the others to shame. It is I who am in amazement of your perceptions."

"Well, I figured I could not arrive empty handed, and Mrs. Ellis is a very knowledgeable sort of person. She told me of your family first, and then I told her of my gift ideas until we were both satisfied. Now, let me unwrap this so I may give you your gift."

He watched as she unwrapped the paper to find a flat leather case which opened like a book. Inside were sheets of parchment with her new initials embossed in the corner, fine writing supplies, and a small signet ring on a gold chain.

The smile she gave him provided relief. She liked his gift. "The ring was my mothers. It has the same crest as my ring. I thought it only right you should have it. I am sorry I did not think of it sooner. I am sure you enjoy corresponding with your family and friends… and it is only right as Mrs. Darcy that you should have proper supplies… really it should not be given as a gift because you are entitled to it regardless-"

"Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth cut him off. "It is perfect. Thank you." She dipped her head as she dashed into the dressing room. God, he had babbled. He swiped his hand over his brow. He did not realize his palms were damp.

Elizabeth came from her dressing room with a small package and sans slippers. She wordlessly held out her gift to him. Her earlier smile now tentative.

He felt the course brown paper and twine which neatly concealed a small volume of some sort lurking beneath.

He was slow and careful to unpackage her offering. When its covers were torn away, in his hand was a book he did not own but recognized as having seen on a shelf in a bookstore in Lambton as well as in Town. It had never really struck his fancy.

He opened the title page. _Select Views in Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Lancashire_. There were sketches and commentary of the Lake District.

It seemed well enough done and it seemed an interesting choice. It was really enough she had not forgotten him.

He greatly admired the beauty of the landscape which existed north of his home in Derbyshire. He had many memories of his boyhood and his father sailing in a small boat on the waters of Winandermere.

"Thank you, Elizabeth. I shall look forward to reading it and studying the sketches."

A minor smugness overcame her countenance. He loved he was coming to know more of the slight variations of her face. A small wrinkle between her brow, a slight upturn at the right corner of her mouth, a slow blink… they all meant something. And, now, both her brows were raised and she was trying to keep a smile at bay.

She stepped closer and bent her head over the book only to look at him through her lashes. "Sir, pray indulge me. I marked a particular passage for you. And, I gave an inscription in the back."

He opened the back cover, a warmth settling over him.

 _First Christmas 1811, Wife, Elizabeth, to Husband, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy._

Mesmerized by her hand and the words which they had written, he absent-mindedly took the edge of the soft ivory ribbon which served as a marker between his thumb and forefinger. It very much reminded him of the ivory ribbon which was woven through the pearls in her hair on their wedding day. He pushed that sentimental thought away.

He was through with ribbons.

Opening to the marked page, there was a verse which was underlined.

 _"many hearts deplored_

 _The fate of those old trees; and oft with pain_

 _The traveller at this day will stop and gaze_

 _On wrongs which nature scarcely seems to heed;_

 _For shelter'd places, bosoms, nooks, and bays,_

 _And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed,_

 _And the green silent pastures yet remain._

And, at the bottom of the verse was a small signature, in ink, not printed.

By her satisfied smirk, she proved she would not be dismissed by his skepticism. "Yes, that is the name you think it is."

He would not believe it. "Wordsworth? This is his signature? He has written this text?"

Fitzwilliam was confounded. The volume he held in his hand, a mere traveler's companion to the Lake District accompanied by some pretty engravings was not known to be authored by this modestly known poet, a poet who was a favorite, indeed.

Her eyes were bright and her hands moved in an excitement which was opposed to the more grace way she typically expressed herself. "Well, Sir, yes. These are all words by Wordsworth. It was published last year though his name was not formally attached. Through sources which shall not be named, I became in possession of this knowledge and obtained this signed book, through other sources which shall not be named, and I am giving it to you. I assume if you love poets like Blake and travel around with valuable first editions like the Jonathan Swift you possessed at Netherfield, then I thought you would find this little gem quite interesting."

His wife was verily bouncing on her toes. She loved literature and the obscure volumes just as he did. Before he could express his gratitude for such a gift, she continued on.

"You see, I know William Wordsworth is not so well-known at present. But, Lyrical Ballads has made a modest mark though I find its value far above what some critics may say. Someday, I foresee others sharing my opinion, and when it becomes known he authored what you hold in your hands, I suspect this anonymous volume with his signature will surely be worth something. But, truly, you should read the essay. The prose makes one feel as if they see what he does. On that merit alone, it is praiseworthy. Someday, I do hope to compare the imagery to experience."

Fitzwilliam pushed himself further into the door to put some distance between himself and his wife. In all of his life, he had never felt completely known or understood by another. Yes, his cousins knew him more than any other could claim, and his friends knew him well enough. But, none really understood the passions he held dear in life.

Yet, somehow he went and married someone who not only seemed to fully comprehend them but shared them as well. In the whole of the world, how could there ever be two people better matched and complemented to one another? It was disconcerting.

He now realized it was why he was so attracted that he helplessly kissed her in the first place over a volume of the previously mentioned Blake, no less, and set off this rapid chain of events which led to their present situation of standing in his boyhood room in his Uncle's house on the night of Christmas.

If he did not leave said room, he was in danger of taking her in his arms.

And, such was not possible. She may allow it, but the hazard was too great and the penalty too steep.

For all the potential they had, he had crushed it by compromising her, forcing her hand before she was ready, and then saying unpardonable things which ruined their chances before their lives together were given a chance to harvest the advantage of being so perfectly matched.

"Elizabeth, I cannot thank you enough. Truly, I mean it. I hardly have the words to express... But, I must go… to bed… in my rooms. I will leave early for Pemberley in the morning. Goodnight. Happy Christmas."

He was out the door before he heard her reply.

The corridor did not provide safety.

"Aunt Ellen." He bowed and tried for a quick escape.

"Fitzwilliam."

He turned back on his heel knowing her words were not a good night greeting but a command for his attention.

"Yes, ma'am?" He was all of twelve years old all over again.

"That is quite a short stay in your wife's chambers is it not?"

 _Lord and Blast_.

"Fitzwilliam, I know you are strict with propriety, and I do respect it. But, we are your closest family. And, I placed your wife in your usual chambers with the best of intentions. Why you choose to take a separate chamber as if you were a common guest, I cannot guess. None of us expect a newly wedded couple to actually use separate rooms. Your sister is to an age which she will have to understand. She is not a child anymore, and it is time you stop treating her as if she were. So, if you are condemning yourself and depriving yourself your wife on her account, then I ask you stop with the pretense and see to your own happiness. Your wife is a darling thing. And, I will not remind you that you need an heir. Soon."

"I appreciate your candor, Aunt. But, I must be away to Pemberley early for the day and require rest. I shall return by supper tomorrow. Goodnight."

He was not so lucky for that to be the end of things. He aunt stopped his departure with a motherly arm around his person. She looked into his eyes just the way she did when he was a motherless young man.

"Will, tell me you take separate rooms because of your foolish sense of decorum."

Her words were more plea than statement or question, and, he saw pity begin to form in her eyes. His aunt could be a wall of stoicism in Society. But with her family, and especially when she indulged in one too many glasses of sweet wine, her visage was just as open as Richard's.

He closed his own with a broad smile pulled mysteriously from his hip pocket. His normal unforgiving frown had never worked upon Aunt Ellen. She would never be intimidated by a boy she had once swatted with a freshly picked branch of birch. "Aunt, Elizabeth and I have been married not a month, and she has known our family for two days. You cannot expect my young wife to be completely comfortable enough to share my chamber in a house full of strangers."

Ah, surely his aunt could at the very least be satisfied by rhetoric.

"Very well, young man. If it makes you happy, I shall believe your flawed logic for now, and we will defer this discussion for later. I am not that in my cups, young man. I married your uncle for love and am not so old as you think." She reached up to pat his cheek and then kiss it while he wished any of _those_ thoughts away.

 _Good God_.

"And, thank you again for the pearl pins, my dear. They are ever so lovely and will go splendidly with my gown for the masque. Happy Christmas, dear boy."

"Happy Christmas, Aunt Ellen."

He knew she was as good as her word. When she brought the subject up again, he would have to be prepared and quite convincing.

* * *

 **A/N:** I mentioned the chapter after this one was already complete. Unfortunately, this chapter had a mind of its own, and I have to work on bridging the gap. Hopefully my next posting you get two chapters! And, you should really just disregard anything I say about upcoming chapters because best-laid plans and such nonsense.

 **K** \- thanks for your review tonight. It spurred me on to post this!

 **The Reader,** I hope it is not too disappointing (but probably very evident)... I don't really have any go-to Regency sources. Just Google which leads to various sources I could never remember. There is also some rudimentary (key word) knowledge I've gained by extensive reading. I also use google to check my word etymology for the most part. I also always appreciate the feedback if I blatantly screw something up. And, I will never pretend to be a stickler on the manners of my characters. Oh, actually a site called write like Austen is something I use frequently, but that and Google are my best friends. As always, thanks for your questions and reviews.

 **And to many of you**... I am also frustrated beyond belief they just won't own their wrongs and makeup already! But, I can't leave the rest untold... and this damn tale is angsty. They will eventually get there, are getting closer even, and there are sweet moments (and a hot one or two) along the way. But they will remain quite scarred of the others feelings for a while longer. Heck, they've only been married not even a full month and much of that time they did not talk. And, their fight was horrible, so we must cut them some slack. If I could just write faster, we could all be satisfied! *sigh*

Some of your reviews seriously make me misty and give me such encouragement. Thank you so very, very much.

Thank you all dearly for reading this.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:** Firstly, thank you so much for sticking around to read and for your reviews! They all precious to me. Secondly, I realized there was a scene in Chapter 27 I had purposely left out, but I had a change of heart. After rereading, I have decided to add it back in. It is the part where E has her dress fitting. Go back and read it if you have no idea to what I am referring to – bottom of Ch 27 - Before ODC go to their dinner and prior to Matlock.

One more thing - I've decided this book should be retitled as _THE ART OF THE COMMA SPLICE_. I cringe as I go back and work on edits of earlier chapters.

* * *

A misplaced, spring-like swath of sunlight encouraged the powdery white to melt into the ground. It could only hasten the early crocus to apply some color to Somerdale's winter garden, and Elizabeth wondered if she would still dwell here in the north under the roof of Lord and Lady Matlock when the little blooms decided to show themselves.

She had only resided at the grand house together with its grand family for a day over a week, but Elizabeth could not help to wonder at how long her visit might stretch on. It would be pleasant to settle somewhere, anywhere, but then again she knew herself to be an impatient creature and admonished her own eagerness. The few times she had spoken alone with her husband since Christmas evening, he had not said anything of wishing away to Pemberley or anywhere else once their duties as guests were complete, and she had not thought it ideal to broach the topic further since she had already done so twice without achieving any clear results.

It was not that she was not taken with the Fitzwilliam clan, for she was very much so – they all but leaped into her heart, but it was that every day it became more unmanageable for her brittle composure. It was an impossible thing to keep a veil of contentment when she might be seated across the drawing room staring at _him_. On the more strenuous occasions in which he chose to seat himself next to her, her struggle intensified to the point she was close to ruining all that which her husband clearly required of her – the façade of marital accord.

Elizabeth walked along, caressing the barren branches of the ornamental trees which would surely delight the senses come spring; she was keen to feel the sadness they held in their dormant state.

Lifting her closed eyes to the teasing sunlight, she wondered when the golden rays would shutter themselves in the clouds once again. The sun had hidden itself away since her arrival to Somerdale. She thought her husband similar to the sun in many ways, and she knew very well where her orbit was in relation to his pull. She was far enough away from his warmth for the whole of her person to remain cold and chilly, devoid of light to even spring the smallest feeling of hope.

Since their arrival, every fleeting moment of real possibility was suppressed by an abrupt removal or aloof look as if to remind her that his poor opinion once bestowed was irretrievable. Perhaps if their history did not demand detachment, their natural attraction could have rooted into something more. But, she had no hope of forgiveness, and every day served to remind her of such.

It was a regular campaign to recall that any touch to her arm, hold of her hand, and seemingly secret smile directed toward her was nothing more than what was required to go along as if they lived out a respectable marriage.

 _Quite the fool I have turned out to be_ _to be wanting something I crushed of my own volition_.

Elizabeth spent her time involuntarily taking any morsel of affection she could and then chastising herself for not demanding more respect that her inward, fragile state of feelings not be toyed with so. But, some things were worth the sacrifice and self-recriminations, and by the end of every day, she would sit before the fire swaddled in a shawl staring unseeingly into the flames reminding herself she was still the young woman her papa proclaimed – she was not formed for ill-humor. When the fire went low, she would finally close her eyes with a renewed determination to be grateful for the good and dismiss the bad.

Her solitude in the garden was soon interrupted.

"Lizzy! Oh, Lizzy! You have received a rather large delivery. It is a trunk. You must come right away."

Elizabeth grabbed Isabella's hand to keep it from flying around in such a fluster. "Well, this is certainly exciting, but I am sure it is nothing more than some of the wardrobe I ordered whilst in town."

"Then you are not eager to examine it all? You are a strange woman, Elizabeth Darcy. Come, we have time before we dress for tonight's celebration, and what better way to spend the last afternoon of the year admiring all of your new things! Do tell me your gown for 'Twelfth Night has arrived. Otherwise, we may have to contrive some silly costume for you. Mother will never allow you to escape dressing in character."

"Oh, very well. Isabella, I have never seen the point in fripperies. But, if it entertains you, then as your newest cousin and friend, I am most happy to oblige. Shall we gather Georgiana and Ruth? It would not do to save either of them from the peril of admiring the lace which I will surely have to remove from each and every bodice. If Madame Jean André had not been such a tyrant on the day of my fitting, I would feel very badly indeed for having Tabitha to mend her work."

"Oh, Elizabeth, using the modiste myself, I can empathize, but must you mean to be so terrible? Her creations are everything perfect and fashionable."

"I must own comfort is preferable to fashion and there is always perfection in simplicity. Additionally, with a mother who attempted to over embellish each and every thing I wore, I own a very long and personal quarrel with most all forms adornments."

Isabella laughed as Elizabeth looked down to mock and scoff at the smallest silk rosettes which formed a single row at the high waist of her pelisse.

"You, Lizzy, are too much. Yes, let us go find Ruth and Georgiana. Perhaps even Mother should join us, and perhaps with all of us to restrain you, your gowns shall be left as the great Madame intended them. Mayhap we even find one which shall be perfect for this evening."

The clock struck one single chime, and it was the signal for the evening's end. The eve of the New Year had been celebrated in good fun, and Elizabeth even owned her own heart was light for most of the night. They had played games, delighted in music, and drank and ate themselves into satisfaction.

The family made their way to stairs and were exclaiming their good nights and blessings for a prosperous new year to come. No one could escape a sloppy, haphazard kiss on the cheek from the Earl, and less than neat steps carried the most the family away and into their rooms. The way Ruth escorted her husband up the stairs gave Elizabeth much to ponder.

Stephen, a grown man who at times had the pride which reminded her of her own husband, was also everything charming, and most charming was his complete infatuation with his wife. He did not hide his adoration nor did he hide the reliance which placed him expertly in her care. They were a perfect pair as she wrapped her arm under his own and around his waist to aid his journey up the grand staircase. His words into her ear were not as quiet the foxed husband may have thought them to be. The sweet, light laughter of Ruth indicated that despite the slurred, inelegant language, she quite enjoyed the outrageous sentiments he expressed.

"Quite sickening, is it not? My brother was taken in the moment he met her." Elizabeth looked around and realized she was left alone with Richard in the towering foyer. Where had her husband gone to? He at the very least usually wished her good night and sometimes escorted her to her room.

Pushing thoughts of her husband elsewhere, without thought to her teasing manner for she was still a little dreamy and perhaps a bit jealous of Ruth and Stephen's good fortune, she raised her brow to Richard. "Oh, come now, Colonel. You know very well theirs is a relationship worth emulating as it is everything sweet. Love in a marriage, while becoming more fashionable, is not so easily achieved. It should be celebrated. Perhaps, even someday you shall find yourself so blessed if there was such a woman to put up with you." His only response was to laugh with her. As her laughter died, her voice took on a wistful quality and her eyes looked somewhere over the Colonel's shoulder. "You must acknowledge the rest of us could only wish for what Stephen and Ruth have."

"And, madam, you do not have the very same?"

For the first time, Elizabeth saw how abruptly Richard Fitzwilliam could become discerning and serious. His jovial, merry airs were replaced with a neutral face and penetrating eyes which studied her intently as if sizing her up and assessing her in a way which made her wish to hasten far away from his presence.

Here she has assumed the good Colonel was as in his cups as his brother. It turned out she had quite underestimated this man if his manner could so change so.

She hoped the panic she felt in her breast was only short-lived when the feeling registered on her face. She braced herself against his appraisal.

"You mistake my meaning. My husband and I are only newly married. I have no doubt of gaining the kind of intimacy your brother shares with his wife of long standing. I did not mean to suppose though that we are not as happy. Good night and may God bless you in the New Year, Richard."

She dropped a curtsey not waiting for the return courtesy. Her steps clicked over the marble and then onto the soft carpets of the nearest corridor unthinking of which direction she was carrying herself.

 _Oh, terrible blunder_. She should not have defended herself to such a degree but laughed away his insinuation. After all, he was a Colonel in the Dragoons who strategically commanded men into battle. He was not by any means unintelligent.

All she had experienced of him thus far was his propensity to tease dear Georgiana, outrageously flirt with her and Ruth, badger his cousin, and make his brother the object of derision. But of course, there should be more to a man. She could only hope that she had not spurred him into an investigation.

 _Oh, why ever not should he be invested in his cousin's happiness!_ The two seemed as thick as thieves and closer than brothers despite when it seemed as if they tortured each other with barbed comments with meanings only known unto themselves. Oh heavens, what if Richard questioned her husband as to his marriage? Would he tolerate it despite their close relationship? All of their efforts would be in vain… as would her suffering… his suffering.

In her concerned state, all of her mind was focused upon the thoughts in her head as she aimlessly wandered and found herself alone in the library with nothing but the moonlight to console. She eschewed lighting a lamp and dismissed the books which called from their place warmly nestled on their shelves.

She welcomed the silvery shadows. She found comfort alone in the dark. It was a reprieve from the brief scrutiny Richard had bestowed upon her. She nestled her head into the leather and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth thinking the air was not so cold as to induce her move from her current shroud. Oh, how she hoped this new year would bring peace.

Her eyes had been closed no more than a quarter of an hour before she heard the faint strains coming from the music room which was settled on the other side of the library near the ballroom. Surely Georgiana or Isabella would not think to practice in the middle of the night. Both ladies had looked sleepy when they departed up the stairs arm-in-arm behind the Earl and the Countess, Isabella perhaps more so from indulging in too much sweet wine. Elizabeth shook her head thinking it difficult to imagine Lady Isabella being two years senior to herself.

Slipping out the door, called by curiosity, Elizabeth ran her fingers along the top of the wainscot in time with the sounds which propelled her through the darkened corridor. It was several weeks since she had slept in peace, so the time of night was no evil, and she would be grateful for the diversion anyhow.

As she became closer to the sounds slipping from under the door, she realized it was Georgiana who was within. No one else, though the Fitzwilliams were a musically gifted family, could produce the depth of feeling which was now causing an ache in her chest.

The key strokes were too soulful for comprehension, and so she stood transfixed by the vibrations stirring the depth of her sensibilities.

As she was upon the door, she let the minor key envelop her weakened heart and pressed her head into the sturdy mahogany. The distress felt in every down beat of the relentless triplet undercurrent was a match to her every emotion. The ostinato was much like her own life of late: no matter how each movement, hurtful word, or hopeful touch had pulled her down and drew her out, the melody marched forward without a rest leaving the discordant, longer notes and their feelings lingering in an unresolved wake.

The music described, without lyrics, the lamentations of her soul.

Elizabeth struck at her tears. Something so beautiful though so full of anguish must be congratulated, and she must stop her sentimental self-pity before it overtook her life complete. How strange it was that no more than an hour previous that she felt buoyant and happy. Were her feelings so fragile, so changeable?

She filled her lungs before a silent sob could be released giving answer to her inward probing.

She quietly opened the door adjusting her eyes to the light of the fire and found it was no longer possible to take the desired step into the room.

The music did not stop, nor did he look up.

His eyes were closed and remained so until the final chord. When the tremors faded into nothingness, he boldly, silently looked to his wife.

As his eyes acknowledged hers, she found she was not equal to what she saw reflected there, and she turned to the dark of the corridor taking the first few steps which would carry her to safety – away from him.

"Elizabeth, wait…"

She felt his touch at her wrist and braved to look up. It was a futile effort to see much in the obscure light, so she quit her search of his wordless expression and closed her eyes.

She could curse her mind for having no words to say, and she could curse her husband for the way his fingertips feathered over her skin stealing any rational thought. But, something must be said, and so she compelled words from her lips though they came together too quickly then abated with long pauses between.

"Sir, I had no idea… that was… completely moving. Your skill is nothing short of… what you must think of my playing…I cannot fathom."

She felt his fingertips drop from the place on her wrist where she knew her pulse was wild thrumming through her skin.

"Elizabeth, _no one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can think anything wanting_."

She faltered at his heavy, whispered tones, but the meaning and his deliberate perjury for the sake of her pride made Elizabeth smile, and with the upturn of her lips was a small upturn of her spirit.

"I will take that as a great compliment coming from one who could very well make a living with his art though your flattery is not so proficient as your playing." She spoke quietly and with some hesitation. "I am all astonishment at your talent."

"You know very well I do not flatter. And, I do not understand your so-called astonishment as my family has referenced my playing to my great embarrassment on at least more than one occasion. I do not like to be on display, even among my intimates. I thought you more perceptive."

Elizabeth scoffed at the implied insult, but then again, she had realized only recently the foolishness of all her discernments and observations. She could nonetheless help a retort though. "Well, it stands to reason that you are proved deceived in me and my abilities, Fitzwilliam."

"Other than in this instance, I do not think I am so much _deceived_ in you as more so blind and ignorant and even capable of misunderstanding you. _You_ hardly hide who you are, your thoughts, and your feelings. But, we both are capable of only registering, hearing, and understanding what we only selfishly wish to. Anyhow, enough of talking in circles. I do wish to speak with you before I retire since I am off early in the morning; let us return to the music room. Please?"

Instead of speaking, she turned and went toward the soft orange light which was spilling out into their corridor.

He followed and resumed his seat on the bench at the pianoforte; the fingers of his right hand found a few measures of a quick melody as Elizabeth tucked herself into a chair not so far away.

As she watched his absent-minded plucking, she thought to an evening at Netherfield in which he sat entirely too close to her on the pianoforte bench as she fumbled over some Mozart. He was so complementary she thought his musical taste dulled by his drunken state that night and even wondered if he lacked an ear for competence entirely, but then she recalled how quickly he would lose his place in the music only to find it before she needed to point it out. She should have known if he could read music then he could surely play it. But, no, detection of his superior skill was most certainly out of her power. What other secrets could such a man possess?

As if hearing her unspoken question, he stilled his hand and turned to eye her with an expression that told her he may never share the mystery of himself.

He held her under his stare until she could do naught but turn away.

"If you wished to speak to me, Fitzwilliam, then I am at my leisure to hear you. But, I shan't promise if you do not speak that I will not to take myself off to my bed."

He faltered. "I wished to know if you will be well while I am away."

"Oh, I shall be fine. Georgie is the sweetest girl and has such intelligent conversation. You have much to be proud of there as I am sure you are aware. Isabella, well, she can always be counted on to raise even the lowest spirits. Ruth seems to be everything sensible, and I find her very comforting when I am missing Jane. Aunt Ellen seems to know just when I need my solitude. I think I shall be very well while the gentlemen of the house are away. And, you? Will you survive tucked away in a hunting lodge for four days with your cousins and uncle?"

Fitzwilliam turned toward her and rested on his hands which slowly slid behind his back. "I have survived our New Year hunting trips in years past though this year may be more of a challenge than in previous ones."

Elizabeth had no wish for him to expand on what made this year different. "And, do you think you will shoot enough pheasant to please Lady Matlock? And, what shall you do when not pillaging the coveys? My father rarely attended hunting parties, and I am all curiosity."

"Your father is a good man to his family; I think I have to admire him. But, no need to be curious as the exact reason we go off to a lodge is so the ladies do not have to witness nor concern themselves with our poor behavior."

"I thank you for the comment to my father, but your answer only spurs my curiosity onward. Do not require me to force an explanation."

He sat back up straight and quirked a brow at her as if wanting to answer her challenge. His expression was as light as she had seen since Christmas day. "Well, Richard and Stephen have a pastime of attempting to out drink each other while attempting to force me in the process. There are also all kinds of pathetically exaggerated stories which are hardly fit for my ears let alone a lady's – these come courtesy of my Uncle and the days of his youth. Of course, I cannot leave out the foolish stunts such as the time Stephen almost killed himself by nearly drowning in a half-frozen pond. And, then there is the main occupation of us attempting to kill as many roosters as we can shoot while still half-inebriated. Madam, I believe that is the extent of it."

"Well, Mr. Darcy, that is quite candid and shocking!" Elizabeth smiled at the thought of the gentlemen she knew acting like complete fools. "Pray tell me you yourself is sober when you fire your gun as I have seen your clumsiness when you consume one too many drinks for your own good. And, what does Ruth and your aunt say to this?"

"Aunt Ellen only cares that she has enough birds to fill her table for her ball, and Ruth was something to behold when she found out the reason Stephen was kept to his bed for a fortnight after the pond incident. I feared for my person – she can be truly frightening at times." He visibly repressed a shudder that reminded her of Richard. "As for your other question, I usually only acquiesce to my cousins on the last evening. I prefer to be completely sober and in control of myself when hunting, but I appreciate the concern if not your faith in my abilities to hold my drink. But, what of you? What plans do you and the ladies have in our absence?"

"I have plans to assist your aunt in the preparations for the masquerade - flowers, fabrics, decorations – those kinds of things. Isabella and I have promised to take the children on a long walk one day if the weather is as fine as it was today. And, Georgie has promised to give me a dance lesson."

"A dance lesson? I have seen you dance, and you are well-versed in the art."

Elizabeth felt the heat rise to her cheeks feeling the need to twirl her thumbs lest she fidget in her chair. "Well, Aunt Ellen has declared she will call for a waltz. My mother would have collapsed in a fit of nerves had I ever learned that particular dance… I was quite surprised when your sister indicated she could teach me."

"Ahh… that would be Richard, the scandalous bastard." The last was uttered under his breath. "I am not sure what my father was thinking in naming him as her guardian alongside myself."

Her eyebrows rose to the top of her head and her cheeks pinked at his cant. When he realized it, he reddened himself. "Pray, forgive my language. Richard is closer than a brother and though you do not deserve to hear my coarse language, I assure you he deserves anything I may say of him."

Elizabeth was only mildly offended at his language and thought there was a kind of intimacy in having such an uninhibited conversation with him. "Do you not reason that being Georgiana's guardian might give Richard something additional to live for when he rides into battle? I gathered your cousin saw fighting on the Peninsula though no one seems to discuss it. Was your father aware of your cousin's career before he passed?"

Darcy seemed lost in consideration of her words before he could respond. "Yes... Richard went into the army as soon as he was done at Cambridge. At the time my father passed, we were already into conflict… it was before the Peninsular campaign, but Richard was quickly sent into the fray. I had never thought the motivation of my father being for Richard's own sake rather than for mine or even Georgie's, but your conjecture seems possible. If true, I am grateful to my father and ashamed to have thought so selfishly. Richard looks to Georgie as a daughter whereas I see her as something betwixt that and a sister. He does not speak of his time away too often, but he has on occasion described his family, all of us, as giving him will to live under conditions I cannot even begin to fathom."

"Perhaps, then, you should give him pass for being… what did you call him… a _scandalous bastard_?" The last was said with a good dose of bravery.

"Elizabeth!" Her husband was incredulous and knocked half off his perch.

"Your words, not mine, sir!"

Fitzwilliam regained his composure and stood in front of the instrument. "Point taken. Now as far as your lesson… should not your husband be the one to give it and not his sister? Listen closely to the beats and the melody."

" _You_ mean to teach me? Now? In here?" Elizabeth placed her feet on the floor, but not thinking his suggestion was such a good one, she decided to remain seated.

"I do mean to teach you here and now. The furniture provides practice in moving around obstacles. Now, listen."

Elizabeth was captivated as she watched Fitzwilliam's fingers expertly play several measures complete. She was sure her mouth was still agape as he came to stand before her with those very same fingers extended to her.

How had she not previously noticed he was missing his cravat and jacket?

She had no choice but to place her hands in his.

"Have you ever seen the Viennese Waltz?"

"No, but I have seen a picture of the hold."

"Well, it is not so salacious as its reputation." He lifted her left hand in place over his upper arm, and she closed her eyes to resist the temptation of allowing her fingers to take a tight hold of the hard strength she felt under her palm. "Elizabeth, keep your hand here to begin… and I shall place my hand here."

Elizabeth felt his caution as he closed his own hand over her middle. How she would manage a complete dance with her husband touching her so, she was not entirely sure.

"Your right hand shall stay in my left for now." He began to spin her in place and not so elegantly. "For the most part, we shall maintain this hold while I twirl us quickly around until we make ourselves ill. Though we must take care not to crash into our neighbors, hence the usefulness of the furniture. But, I cannot truly imagine my aunt expects many of her guests to know the dance much less perform it. Perhaps the floor may not be so crowded after all?" He said this as he spun her around a sofa.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and could only look at her husband's chest in an attempt to not become dizzy. "Look at me, Elizabeth."

She looked up into his eyes, and he slowed his movements at the same time as he brought her just a small distance closer. "The dance goes quickly. You need to look at me and follow my lead by the pressure of my hand." He squeezed the hand he held for effect.

She squeezed back.

With faint music playing in her head and dull buzzing in her ears, Elizabeth lost herself in Fitzwilliam as her feet followed his. They increased their pace around the spacious but crowded music room. The only sound truly made was the occasional sputter from the hearth and the eventual light hum from her husband as he kept their movements in time.

Instead of feeling the compression of his hand over her own, she felt his other hand grip her waist tighter before sliding down to her hip. Her instinct was to draw closer, and she did so as he slowed their spinning. Eventually, they were no more than inches apart from each other, swaying slowly, and he was no longer humming. His breathing seemed as labored as hers. Something must be done or said to break the tension – her body felt aflame, and she could stand for it no more.

Her relief came when out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement at the door which was left ajar. She did her best keep her husband from knowing of her distraction.

She saw just enough of Richard's smile to know she would now be free from his suspicions. She smiled seeing he was not shocked at all to see them in the music room in the middle of the night dancing around in each other's arms with no music to guide them. _Scandalous man, indeed._ His grin was devious, but he was clearly delighted to see them so intimate.

An unbidden thought came to her and she laughed from her amusement. _I could spin around all night if he might hold me like this; fie on the rest of dancers_. She was not wholly aware that she did so, but she leaned her head into her husband's chest. He stopped their subtle movements entirely but did not drop his hold of his wife and instead bent to her ear. "Why must you always laugh at the most inconvenient of moments?"

She leaned her head back from his chest as she attempted to regain her breath. She studied his face and noted the small sardonic smile there that told her he was amused despite attempting to be stern. "I was just thinking how we should scandalize all of your aunt's guests if you decide to hold me so closely… though we might not scandalize your family. They do not seem the type to be put out by a little impropriety." His smile widened just a bit until she continued. "Perhaps it would contribute to our purposes if you did embrace me so closely?" She pressed her body along his as close as she dared. "Surely no one could question the validity of ours being a love match if hold me then like you are now." She arched her brow at him and tried to smile.

Elizabeth's heart was beating out her chest at being so forward, and she wished him to take her meaning. She dare not speak with more clarity for she did not think she could take an outright rejection. Although their feelings were terribly executed on the sides of both, she thought if he could only take the hint that she no longer questioned their relationship as being founded in something real, then she could speak more plainly without fear. Perhaps they might repair their marriage before things were too far gone.

He dropped her hand and removed his hold from her waist as he stepped back. "My family and their guests can go the devil, Elizabeth." By the hard glint which overcame his face, he may have told _her_ to go to the devil.

The longer she stood there before him willing him to understand her, the angrier his stare became until she could stand up to it no longer. She quickly removed herself and walked through the halls of Somerdale with all the dignity she could muster after having the offering of her feelings dismissed so abruptly. Her husband did not follow her nor did she wish it of him.

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 **A/N: I am planning to post three more chapters before I go to sleep tonight - have to finish proofreading the others and eat some dinner, so who knows what time!? But, keep your eyes peeled.** These four chapters, in my opinion, are best enjoyed if read without being broken up too much. They will come to a turning point of sorts at the end of chapter 34 and lead us closer to the end.

Of course, I must give credit where it is due. As E is listening to the music Darcy is playing, she thinks it is a _lamentation of her soul_. Those are not entirely my own words. They belong to another composer in his description of the work I had in my mind when I wrote that part of the story. Any lovers of the Romantic period wish to guess the piece? (There are several hints.)

Forgive the silly mistakes (un-beta'd), but please point out the glaring ones!


	32. Chapter 32

CH 32

 **A/N: I've posted Chapter 31 on the same evening. Please read that if you have not! I've just posted Ch 33, and Ch 34 will soon follow.**

* * *

As Darcy followed his cousins and uncle up the stone steps of the house, he rubbed at his shoulder where it was bruised from the recoil of his gun. No doubt Aunt Ellen was waiting just behind the double doors, ensconced in a foyer decorated with grand finery, impatiently brooding and ready to pounce on her menfolk. Her displeasure was bound come down hard upon their heads. It seemed Elizabeth's gift of cognac inspired Uncle Henry to bring from the cellars other bottles of fine spirits, and it took an additional day to shake off the effects of overindulgence the rest of them surely still felt as much as he did.

He told himself he would never again drink himself into such a stupor although he held similar sentiments every year after he and his relations collectively knocked over a hundred cocks from the air and celebrated in equal measure to their success as men providing for their table.

The door groaned opened, a noise similar to the groan coming from his sensitive stomach, and as for right as he surmised, the Countess was the standing next Ruth. The sick feeling intensified as he willed his posture not to shame itself in front of the ladies. He meant to stand firm in the face their disapproval as they took in their unkempt men.

Darcy was disappointed Elizabeth was not there holding court with an equally scolding expression. He had been looking forward to it. That he had missed seeing her every day was an easy acknowledgment though understanding the deeper feelings behind the sentiment was infinitely more complex. Their last parting had not been amicable and left his mind overturned as he spent the next several days trying to push the nagging impression that his anger was misplaced at her flippant reference to their ruse of a marriage.

"Gentleman, I am so glad you felt compelled to join us. Several of our overnight guests have arrived with no master and no sons of the house to give a proper welcome." Lady Matlock's voice lowered to a lethal pitch as she walked closer. "So help me if any of you are not down here ready in full to receive our guests not even a minute past six 'o clock. And, if any of you are in a kilt, I will show no mercy. Now be off with you immediately. Henry, I shall meet you in the study in ten minutes. Do not keep me waiting."

Ruth turned her nose at all of them. "My goodness, you all smell horrid. At least none of you are sporting any blackened eyes. Husband, come."

Stephen was led off silently yet sporting a rakehell smile in spite of his wife's grave voice. Darcy thought it was strange how his cousin enjoyed being led through the nose by his Ruth. Such a strange contradiction of a man – he was thoroughly owned by his wife, yet Viscount Ashdown was no wilting flower hiding behind the skirts of his Viscountess. The man could be a downright bull when his wished. He engendered respect wherever he sought it, whether in politics, business, or the social fracas of the ton.

Darcy enjoyed the same respect and prided himself on being his own master, but he was coming to quite easily envy his cousin's easy marriage. It seemed both partners clearly knew where the other stood, and though it was clear Ruth made her husband tow the mark, the husband delighted in conforming.

"William, a moment please."

Darcy held a dirtied boot above the stair thinking for more than one reason he should run to his chamber and plead a lack of hearing later. At Richard's smirk from above, Darcy placed his boot on the step below instead and slowly trudged back to his Aunt. He was aware he would not be pleased with whatever it was she was planning to say.

"Aunt Ellen." He bowed and then kissed her cheek if only because he knew he was filthy and she would scoff. Sharing a lodge with three other men, all drunk and chewing on cigars while eschewing the services of a manservant could make any gentleman take on an unseemly smell and appearance.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy!" She swatted her fan at his behind. "Ruth has the right of it, you smell like you have been rolling in a gin-soaked sty. Do bathe before you see your wife."

"A gin-soaked sty, milady? You are fortunate Richard is not fifteen years younger and around to hear that as a challenge. He would contaminate the trough and have all of your swine drunk."

"You know very well what I mean. Do not be smart with me, but now you mention it, please keep an eye on my punch bowl this evening. You know your cousin has peculiar amusements."

"That I do, and I will guard your punch bowl with my very life, Aunt. Now, I must see about Mr. Johnson ridding me of my filth. Until this evening." He bowed and only kissed her hand this time.

And, she took advantage, tightened her grip and pulled him into a sitting room. He knew there was no escape when she closed the door and leveled him with a look somewhere between annoyance and pity.

"Will?"

"Yes, Ma'am?

"No, sir, do not even think about sitting on my sofa. This shall only take a moment of your time, so please refrain from dirtying my upholstery."

Darcy gathered his hands behind his back and waited for his aunt to start in.

Though he was not permitted to sit, she took up a seat across from him. "Will, is there something I should know? Something you should like to share… unburden yourself with?"

He swallowed hard but thought he kept a neutral face. "Not that I am aware of."

"And, are you not curious why I would ask such a thing?"

 _Damn_. "No, Aunt, I am not."

"Fine, if you are going to force me to say then so be it. Something is not right in your marriage, and I cannot place it. Elizabeth's character seems above reproach, and she is genuinely sweet and everything that is good. She has worked on Georgie in ways none of us has been able to. She puts on no airs, and she accepts us easily. Truly, she is everything I could hope for in a wife for you. That you are in love with her is clear."

Now her look turned fully to pity, and he deserved it as he was fully aware his love was unrequited.

"Will, are you happy?"

"Aunt, why should you think I am not?"

"Care to answer my question without one of your own?"

"Why is it you are asking after my happiness?"

The Countess stood and walked to him. She reached her hand to his shoulders and forced him in a seat. "Forget my sofa. May I pour you a drink?"

"You sons have me poured me enough drinks to last me into the next year, and seeing as how that it a twelvemonth from now, I will politely decline your offer."

The Countess removed from the sideboard and sat in the adjacent seat reaching for his hand. "If you do not wish to share whatever struggles you have, then I beg you to find some other way to relieve my mind. You do not visit your wife at night, and I have hardly seen you carry her off during the day for even a private conversation. It will not be long before the others notice. Richard has already expressed concerns, and you will have to forgive me for begging him to allow me to discuss this with you first."

Darcy tried to keep his breathing even. Unless he was in the company of his family, and it was only a few times during the year, he was not accustomed to this kind of prying nor this amount of worry for his well-being. "Aunt, I do appreciate your concern, but it is not what you think. All is well enough."

"It is hard to believe such when I know you so well, Fitzwilliam. And, Elizabeth, she has valiantly hidden her sadness or guilt or something of that sort for the past several days. But, as a mother and a woman wise to this world, I can tell she carries a burden whether of her own doing… or yours… or both I do not know, but she is on the verge of her will breaking. I only wish to be of service to you… to the both of you."

 _Ha!_ She may be unhappy with their situation, but her being in pain of a broken heart was doubtful. "I assure you, Aunt, you underestimate her greatly." Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose and then watched his aunt bristle at his flippant tone and braced himself.

"Fitzwilliam, are suggesting my sympathies for her are misplaced? Are you telling me Elizabeth has us all fooled? Do not tell me she is mercenary or a shew behind closed doors."

This time it was Darcy who bristled.

"Please do not speak so of my wife. She is neither of those things. You mistake my meaning. I mean to say she is of too strong of character to break over some strife with her husband… which is only your assumption anyhow."

Ellen Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock, threw her hands in the air in an attempt to convey her frustration. "You clearly know nothing of young women. You are no different than your bull-headed father, bless his soul. My only hope is you will come around as fast as he. If your dear father were here today, know he would take you out back in the garden to whip some sense into you. Perhaps I should entrust Mr. Johnson to do so."

Darcy knew all the grown women he shared blood with on either side of his lineage to be officious, but Aunt Ellen was crossing into offensive territory – a place only previously occupied by one other particular aunt.

His patience was at an end, and he was not pleased she had seen the truth of the matter. "Madam, I am a grown man, and my marriage is my own concern. Not yours. Further, please refrain from insulting my father, and do not dare suggest to bring my servant into matters of my personal business."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, sit back down young man. Not that I approve, but Theodore Johnson is as much a servant as your father's truest friend. That man was not always a valet. If not for him, you would may very well not be here on this earth to be making a fool of yourself with your lovely wife." Darcy, perplexed at her words and manner watched as his Aunt strolled silently to the window seeming to look back on another time. She finally turned with a gentle look for him. "William, may I speak with Elizabeth on this topic? She is still young, and I do not have the impression she is so close to her own mother as to write of troubling matters. Perhaps I may assist her?"

Casting away questions of why his aunt may be speaking so of his servant and father, and putting away thoughts of his own dear mother, a fear struck into him at the thought of Elizabeth opening up to his Aunt about their marriage. "Aunt, I will consider proposing the idea to Elizabeth if she indeed is in need of… well… a woman's perspective." _Though_ _I will consider it for not more than the next ten seconds_.

"Very well. If you will not speak to me, then you can at least allow me to speak with her if she wishes it. Do not push us away, Fitzwilliam. We only wish what is best for you."

Darcy was made to feel guilty by her words, but he would not stand for his family to concern themselves with the truth.

"Aunt Ellen, I am grateful to you and Uncle Henry for your support. You have been as second parents to me and Georgie when we needed your care the most, but I am closer to thirty than I am twenty. Some things I must to see to myself and my marriage is one of them. Surely, I must not tell you this? However, your concern is appreciated, and I ask you to believe all is well enough and respect the boundaries of my marriage."

The Countess knew by his placating and formal tone that her dear nephew was through with the conversation, yet she could not help herself. "Fine, fine, but do not make me regret my faith in you. And, I shall not remind you to not give rise to gossip. Tonight, all eyes will be on you and Elizabeth. Your marriage may survive the scrutiny of our family because it is that we shall love you no matter the circumstances. However, a fragile marriage, and one of such interest, will _not_ survive the scrutiny of the ton. My influence only extends so far. It will do you well to recall that."

Darcy took a deep breath in knowing she was entirely correct and nodded his compliance. His family had a position to uphold whether he wished to wash his hand of Society or not. That luxury of wishing them all to hell could not come until Georgiana was secured in marriage… or perhaps never.

"I shall see you tonight, dearest. See to it you are properly dressed unless you wish me to parade you up the stairs in front of all of my guests and return you to Mr. Johnson for proper attire."

He stood and dropped another kiss on his aunt's cheek knowing his affection was appreciated, and he was glad to give it. But, a promise to not embarrass himself with his fashion choices for her masquerade ball was not something he could give without compromising his honor. He remained silent and walked to his room.

* * *

After a short rest and a long soak, Darcy felt equal to the task ahead of him.

"Mr. Johnson, a towel please."

The older man presented himself to his master with a bath sheet and silk banyan. The heavy silk looked inviting and though Fitzwilliam felt resigned to the evening ahead, it was an altogether pleasing thought to think on indulging in a good book, in nothing but his banyan and silence… while lounging his bed… his actual bed.

The one his wife slept upon.

Perhaps with her in it.

They could avoid all that was expected of them – no company, no pretended smiles just for show. And if he were fortunate, she would let him kiss her… and hold her… and touch her in ways he had only in his mind… and prove his aunt completely wrong.

He plunged his head into the now tepid water to escape the impatient look his valet was bestowing. _How embarrassing_. Wishful thinking would serve no purpose after all.

Fitzwilliam nodded to Mr. Johnson to leave the things and then stood allowing the water to drip from his body. He removed the excess, threw on the comforting silk, and stood at the window. He gazed onto the barren fields covered in the muted tones of the setting winter sun and speculated on the audacity of his Aunt Ellen. Though her intentions had been well-placed, she was as intrusive as Lady Catherine.

He closed his eyes in mortification at that uncharitable thought. It was not true really, but her inserting herself into his personal affairs was less than ideal. He wondered at her words about Elizabeth.

He did not seek out his wife after his conversation with his Aunt, and he wondered if there was truth to what his Aunt said of her being out of sorts while he was away.

If she was as affected as he had been these several days, perhaps he should speak to her, apologize for his anger the night before he had left with the hunting party. But by God, he would not tolerate her making a mockery their situation and his feelings. He knew he had not misread her manner when she narrowed her eyes, gave an ironic smile, and looked to him as he accidentally fell into holding her after they had practiced waltzing.

Were not her words intended to remind him of where they truly stood? Was her tease not a rhetorical blasé attempt at humor he was by no means ready for?

 _"Surely no one could question the validity of ours being a love match if hold me then like you are now."_

How could she be so cruel to make light of their situation?

Of course, they were both well aware of their duty… though apparently, they were failing miserably according to his aunt. But, he was not ready yet to laugh at their predicament. His feelings were yet too raw. He had not meant to pull her so close, but he lost his will when she allowed him the liberty of holding her so. And, he had not meant to become so angry when she was just being her usual self while attempting to keep things light between them. He now had enough remorse for his abrupt words with her that hoped he had not pained her, but then again, if he had, he was at least thankful she might still be affected by him to some degree.

"Sir, shall I shave you?" Mr. Johnson stood at the door with a razor in hand.

Darcy ran his hand through the growth on his face. It was bothersome not being shaved in nearly five days, his face itched and he could not help pull at his short whiskers in torment. But, he did not feel like being under Mr. Johnson's scrutiny after having to endure nearly five days of completely inappropriate questions from his cousins. The older man saw through him just as his aunt did. His equanimity could only bear so much assault in such a short time.

"I think not, Mr. Johnson. I am to go as Scotsman after all. Please just prepare my clothing."

"The Countess has given strict instructions no gentleman should go down wearing a kilt. May I prepare something else?"

Darcy came from the dressing room into to his bed chamber where Mr. Johnson was brushing a tartan small kilt despite his bravado. "Ah, Mr. Johnson, I appreciate you doing my aunt the honor of asking me to wear something other than my chosen costume, and I will let it be known that you indeed tried to talk some sense into me. But, please let us proceed as you are. I am assuming Stephen is also preparing likewise."

"It is my understanding, Sir, Viscount Ashdown prevailed over the Viscountess just an hour earlier. She has since taken to addressing her toilette in your wife's room, and His Lordship is making due with his dress on his own as his valet was banned from the room by Her Ladyship."

Darcy laughed at the thought of Ruth being overruled. He was sure Stephen was not happy to don the plaid garb nor thrilled with the prospect of displeasing his wife, but just as Darcy was, Stephen was an honorable man who would lay down his forfeits. "Tell me, Mr. Johnson, has my wife sent any notes of her own displeasure?" Surely Ruth would be up in arms and enlist Elizabeth in this yearly argument.

"No, Sir, Miss Harris has not delivered any message from Mrs. Darcy."

"Well, then, perhaps Elizabeth may be surprised to see her husband participate in the spirit of Twelfth Night while wearing this heinous cloth."

"Yes, Sir, I am sure she shall be."

Darcy did not miss the lilt of derision in his valet's voice. "Mr. Johnson, let us get on with this ridiculous charade. Far be it from me to keep from displeasing my family. Perhaps you should clean up some of this." He waved his hand to his face. "But, let us keep most of it. May as well hang for a sheep as for a lamb. What say you?"

"I would say, Mr. Darcy that you could not be a disappointment to your family, and you know it."

Darcy was humbled by the compliment knowing he was undeserving, but he was not ready for a serious mood considering how hard he would have to work to prove his supposed happiness in the course of the evening, so he brushed it all off. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson. Now, do you imagine I will have to sport a mask if I keep most of this facial hair?"

"Sir, at the risk of offending the Countess of Matlock further, humor me with at least wearing the mask for at least the first half of the night. I am already planning to make my way to the stables for most of the evening to escape her wrath, and still I do not doubt she will not seek me out even there to deliver the set-down she has promised."

"Of course, far be it from me to inconvenience you any more than I must."

"Of course, Sir."

Darcy stood at the bottom of the stair next to Richard and Stephen. He and the latter were awaiting their wives and Isabella to show themselves. Since it was a masquerade celebrating Twelfth Night there was no receiving line, but all guests, including family, were to show themselves to be presented by a footman before entering the ballroom.

It was not Darcy's first turn in a kilt, but the apprehension Elizabeth may find him too ludicrous to claim as husband would not abate, that was if she were not still angry as she was when they last parted company.

He and Stephen had seen Georgiana and the children prior to going to see Countess with proverbial hat in hand. Georgie assured her brother she approved of his Scottish character very much which bolstered some confidence – the very thing he might lack during a ball when a hundred eyes could be turned on him at any given moment. Though it was a selfish attitude, he was anticipating having a wife at his side to divert some of the attention.

He wondered at how she might dress. His sister was animated over Elizabeth's costume, but as she was sworn to secrecy, she would not diverge even a nary hint. His sister was dressed aptly as an angel. A very tight-lipped angel who apparently swore her allegiance to her new sister. He was just happy to see Georgie open herself up to another and trust again. At least her trust was not misplaced as misplaced as Darcy's. He knew enough not to trust himself to Elizabeth's care, but he knew his wife would not let Georgie down. She could be heartless where he was concerned, but she was not _that_ heartless. And, she had been the best of sisters to her own. No, his little sister's affections were secure with his wife.

As Georgiana was not out, she would only be allowed down in the middle of the evening before supper, when the cake was passed around, along with all those other young people not out in Society who traveled with their parents. The Countess counted her yearly Twelfth Night Masquerade as a family affair, and children, if behaved properly, were permitted to join the company and stay until supper was eventually called. They could observe a dance, and in some years if there were enough who were interested and had the courage, the children were invited to recite some verse or perform some other hastily produced entertainment. Darcy was just relieved he had seen excitement again in Georgiana's eyes over the evening's celebrations.

* * *

"Ah-hem." Richard jabbed a finger into his side.

His gaze caught as he looked up and then quickly down as he immediately cursed the tartan fabric which left him feeling too much exposed. He prayed what he wore underneath would keep him from hiding behind furniture all evening. _Damn her, and damn that French modiste_.

Richard leaned in for a whispered, "Well, look what the cat dragged in… literally. You are a stronger man than I. If she were my wife she would never have made it beyond the door."

"Damn you, Richard. Not another word."

Darcy watched his wife descend to him. She was resplendent. If he thought having her by his side would divert attention from him, then it was a gross understatement. She would command the devotion of the entire room. He would go completely unnoticed.

He trusted his aunt's taste in friends, but not everyone in attendance could be considered such. Sometimes foes were just as necessary to keep under wing. He would have to protect his wife, and he would enlist Richard if needed.

That is if he did not need deal with the very man first. Drool was threatening to fall from the scoundrel's pathetic grin. He gave Richard a sound slap on the back and then stepped forward to take his wife's hand.

He bent low and kissed the back of her silk glove wishing it was her skin. He knew he should say something, anything, but he was too muddled in his mind.

She was dressed in velvet which accented too well the curves of her body. Curves he knew by sight but only had the privilege of touching too few times. The deep plum was almost black which only set off the glow of her soft skin. The cut of the gown and how it draped her body proved any adornment was would have been fruitless. Instead of a rounded cut at the bodice, a soft satin trimmed the edge of a deep-cut V-shape. How was he to tear his gaze away from something so enthralling? The satin, a fichu of sorts, came up around her neck to create a small collar which really did nothing but bring the eyes downward again. The deep violet sapphire pendant which sat nestled directly above the valley of her breasts did nothing to help his situation.

He was in a panic without even finding her face.

"Fitzwilliam?"

He finally looked to her eyes. Her mask was lace and satin, and the shape of the whole thing led him to believe she was dressed as a cat. The bandeau reigning in the mass of curls with two large gems on either side of her head seemed to confirm this.

"Darcy?" It was Stephen's turn to thump someone on the back. "Manners, my good man."

Ruth stepped in his line of vision and held out her hand. If it were possible to give sympathy and a good dose of chastisement all in one look, Lady Ruth Fitzwilliam was a quite adept.

He was thankful for a distraction. Years of experience manifested finally, and he bowed over Ruth's hand paying her a compliment then turning to Isabella doing likewise though he could not have said what their characters were supposed to be.

"Brother and Cousin," Isabella tutted quietly. "Mother is going to have a conniption over the both of you."

Richard laughed and placed a hand on the shoulder of both his brother and cousin. "Well, Mother may expect us to bend to her will, but she will have to be disappointed for years to come. And, you shall have to be spared the theatrics of her tirade, dear Sister, as these two have already done the deed of presenting themselves to her. Mother is silently indulging her rage. Not quite as entertaining, but still amusing nonetheless."

Ruth glared her husband but spoke to her brother-in-law. "Colonel, this is no way to respect your dear mother."

"Forgive me for not understanding, but, Colonel Fitzwilliam, may I ask why _you_ are not dressed as a Highlander?" Elizabeth's right brow arched above her mask, and Darcy was not best pleased with the smile she sent in his cousin's direction.

"Mrs. Darcy, I am disappointed your husband gave you no disclosure. Perhaps he was too ashamed to be bested in the manner of maintaining a particular status… though I would gladly trade places with him directly in this instance. I would willingly wear that stupid skirt every day for a year for one night of taking your place, Darcy." Richard gave his cousin a significant look as he spoke before he turned back to Elizabeth. "You see, there have been various wagers in place yearly regarding our dress for this blasted party my mother insists to put on."

"Richard! Language, at least until tomorrow, and check yourself, little Brother, lest our cousin call you out. I think I should choose to second him in this case or even take the honor all on my own." Stephen was quick to reproach his brother and roll his eyes in Darcy's direction in an act of sympathy.

"Very well, Darcy, my apologies. You may have your satisfaction later if you like." Richard grinned at his cousin and gave a very proper bow.

Elizabeth was confused as to the unspoken meaning of the unspoken conversation. But, Ruth was glaring and Isabella seemed exasperated. All of this was directed at Richard who just smiled at all of them and continued to speak. " _Mrs. Darcy_ , now that Society has come to make merry, we are all expected to act with decorum, and unfortunately this includes you as well, madam, and sadly, myself." He waggled his brows at Elizabeth, and she had the audacity to laugh in return though no one else thought it very funny. "But, as I was saying, there are wagers in place, and this year I am sadly declared the victor. I shall leave it to your husband to explain further."

"Your Lordship?" Ruth formally called for her husband putting an end to the conversation she clearly found no favor with. "Husband, let us go into the ballroom. Colonel, behave yourself. Mrs. Darcy, I shall see you shortly."

Stephen held his arm to his wife. Isabella, after giving a sniff to her youngest older brother, went to catch up to other and her sister by marriage.

Richard held his arm to Elizabeth who took it though she first looked to her husband only to turn away from his angry face.

"Mrs. Darcy, you must allow me, because _someone_ must tell you… you are the most alluring woman here this evening."

"Thank you, Colonel. But, I feel to remind you that you have yet to enter the ballroom for a full comparison."

"I do not need to see any other lady to know my assertion is the truth. Would you not agree, Darcy?" He did not allow his cousin to answer. "But, if I shall, I will modify my words to say you are at least the most charming kitten I have had the pleasure to hold on my arm. I give you leave to paw at me all as you wish."

Elizabeth's smile was tight. "That may not be pleasant for you, Colonel. My _husband_ can attest my claws are rather sharp when provoked. I suggest you not tempt me, Sir, lest I hiss and scratch."

"It is much too late to resist your charm, madam; therefore, I must proclaim myself incredibly tempted, and your sharp claws sound rather intriguing, I can imagine them even pleasant in the correct application, indeed."

Elizabeth swatted his arm with her fan hoping to inflict not a little pain. "Behave, sir. I insist." Her face, or what was shown of it from around her mask was beset with embarrassment. She did not quite know exactly what Richard was getting at, but she felt the impropriety of it from a man not her husband.

"Richard, a word? Now."

"Please excuse me, Mrs. Darcy. Will you remain just as you are until we are returned for you?"

Darcy was restraining himself, but he could not keep his teeth from gnashing together. He all but dragged his cousin into the nearest sitting room before letting loose his anger and before Elizabeth could respond that there was no other choice for her to remain since she had no other escort; the door slammed behind them.

"Richard, what in the hell are you doing? Do you have no respect for me or Elizabeth?"

"Forgive me for having eyes, Darcy."

At that, Darcy grabbed his cousin and shoved him into the door. Richard just grinned a devil-may-care toothsome smile. "You know, I am much worse to Stephen's wife, and she finds me humorous most of the time. Lizzy is not so missish, and neither did I think it of you. Why are you angry? There was no one listening to our conversation to think anything amiss, and I have already apologized for insinuating I would trade places with you in order to be married to such a delightful woman. Perhaps you would have understood the sincerity of my apology if you were not driveling over Lizzy as if you were some green youth. Not that I did not drivel a little too, but pull yourself together, man."

Darcy slammed his cousin again, very much _not_ pulled-together. "Richard, she is _my_ wife, damn you. She is not _Lizzy_ to you. Why are you such a bloody bastard? I will not have you spew your crudeness in her presence. It is disrespectful, and for heaven's sake, though we are married, she is still every bit an inn –" Darcy paused, quickly releasing his cousin and seeking out the tapestry on the other side of the room.

Richard stared after him until his observations sharpened into a neat conclusion. "Pardon, William, were you about to confess…. you have not properly bedded your wife? No – you cannot be serious. Be that the case, _you_ are the bloody idiot here, not me. Unless… Oh, good God, do you some kind of problem?"

Darcy spun around on his heel. "Shut your damned mouth, Richard! You mistake the matter in every way." Darcy stepped back to run a hand over his face and then tried to affect more calm than he felt. "However, she is still adjusting to being a wife, and that adjustment is not easy in a house amidst my foolish relations. There is no room for privacy with the lot of you watching our every move. I am a gentleman and have no expectations of her while we are visitors here. She is a modest young woman. Demure, even. As such, you will be a gentleman when you speak to her."

" _Visitors here_? I will not even dignify that insult with a response nor tell Mother as she will have your backside. But, your wife… demure?" Richard could not keep his chuckle to himself. "'Tis not my impression at all of Elizabeth. Pardon for my not believing you that your wife is some sweet, little miss who could not possibly delight in a little coarse humor. By God, she is married to you, and that is not for one with a weak constitution considering your temperament. She would have already run off from you if she was not full of spirit to keep up… which is just as how you originally portrayed her if you recall. Surely someone who can manage _you_ can manage a little harmless flirtation from me? And, by gads, man! Modest? She is dressed as damned cat!"

"It is a masquerade on Twelfth Night." Darcy was incredulous. "Your mother makes everyone dress in some stupid costume. Do not judge Elizabeth for complying with your mother's demands."

"I do not judge except to say she makes a very fine feline and in a dress which shows a shape which will make a strong man weak in the knees. My point is this, and I do not fault her for it… but… do _not_ tell me she is not to some degree aware of her advantage. She cannot be full of false modesty. And, though her manners are impeccable and she is far kinder than the likes of you deserves she is vivacious as she is witty and light. So, do not call her demure and modest as to excuse your jealousy for my words of little meaning." Richard adjusted the cuffs of his very dapper formal jacket, excusing himself from regimentals as he was on leave and publically representing the house of Matlock this evening. He abruptly looked up to his cousin. "I suppose Elizabeth indeed has the claws she mentioned, does she not? So, tell me, are those claws everything you thought they would be? Or have they injured you somehow?"

Darcy was uncomfortable under Richard's gaze which showed a mind that was now working to answer a riddle. His cousin was clearly on the offensive, and it would not do. "Shove off it Richard, and do not talk as if I do not _know_ my wife." Darcy stalked back across the room to his cousin. "If you do not issue an apology now and then remain silent, I swear on your Grandfather's grave, I will drag you outside right now. We are through with this conversation."

"She is that good then? You always had to have the best though you are hardly acting as if you deserve such."

Darcy shoved with all he had again into Richard, and Richard let himself fall back into the door. He was a battle-tested man, but he had realized his cousin's aggression really had nothing to do with himself and thought it not a good idea to physically antagonize him. His words were effective enough though he was not quite through. "You know, Fitzwilliam Darcy, we share the same grandfather, do we not? You know he would not appreciate your swearing in his home. And, he would not be best pleased to see you acting as a spoilt child losing your temper."

Richard half-heartedly pushed his cousin away and deftly took a seat across the room before Darcy could retaliate. Though Richard had no doubt of besting his cousin, not that he would ever wish to anyhow, he also knew Darcy regularly and up until recently exercised his demons between Angelo's and Jackson's. If they presented themselves with a blacked eye or bloody nose later to his mother, her displeasure would be felt a thousand times more than the pain they could inflict upon each other. It was time to cut to the matter at hand.

"Darcy, if you cannot handle your jealousy when it is only me getting a rise from you, then do your wife a favor and allow me to take her into the fray this evening. Elizabeth clearly has not truly been in Society though I have every faith in her, but just across the house in Mother's ballroom is where the real lechers and tabbies reside. Have you not seen the guest list? Keep your head, man. You have nothing to fear from me, and you know it. And, Christ, recall the manners beaten into that dense head of yours – starting with your wife. I will promise to seek out Elizabeth with an apology if you promise to take the honor first. You have not said one word to your wife since she came down from her chamber, did you even realize? Do not think you can pass off your struggles – not to me. William, I would say it is _you_ who is an arse in this room, not me. I am through provoking you tonight. But, blast it, you have a duty to uphold to our family, your sister, and most importantly to Elizabeth. Do not ruin this night with your pathetic sulking, petty jealousy, and whatever trouble you refuse to share with me. You have been acting strangely since you arrived here. If you go into that ballroom angry and aloof looking to your wife as if she is somewhere between your scorn and unholy desire, things will not go your way. Your marriage was practically a scandalous elopement, some even say it was. I am now beginning to think that would be a better assumption than whatever the truth is. There is clearly something amiss with you, but I have faith. I have seen the fleeting moments where there seems a true accord between you and her, and I hope you find more of that in the future, but for tonight, for her sake, make everyone believe it. I know my mother spoke to you; you and I both know you do not wish her to meddle."

"I have no care for what others think, including you or my aunt."

"Oh, stop your bluster. I give you my word here and now, if you let your wife and our family down tonight, I shall gladly meet you outside where we can have the fight you so seem to want." Richard stood up and left his cousin staring out into the darkness.

* * *

 **A/N:** I appreciate some of the views about Elizabeth – it gives me some things to ponder. Perhaps I am more sympathetic to her because I see the whole story... although, I think she did try to put herself out there in the last chapter - that was my intent - I'll have to go back and review. Speaking of the whole story, I also hate how long this has dragged on! I am a slave to what rolls around my mind though, and I am not a competent enough story-teller yet to know where to condense. I'm hoping a good editor will prune! But, until then, I'm just going to write it all out. Thanks for following along! And kaaw, you make a good point! I should have marked this as angst though I did not intend it to be so angsty when I set off.

Do me a favor dear readers, read until chapter 34, and then decide if you wish to read on. :)


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: I have published Ch 31 & 32 tonight. If you have not read those, please read first. **

* * *

"Elizabeth, my dear, why ever are you not in the ballroom?"

"My Lord." Elizabeth curtseyed, painfully aware and awkward of standing alone in a grand foyer lit brilliantly by every candle in the crystal chandelier shining brightly overhead. She was all but encircled by matching footman in their dapper liveries, and the fact they seemed to look all the same was as amusing as it was strangely disturbing. She was never so glad to see the Earl and his easy smile which rested below his elegant black mask.

"Oh, tosh my little niece. Save that _My Lord_ nonsense for later when the eyes of the _ton_ fall upon us. Come, let me take you in. It will be a _coup_ to escort you to our little party in place of William." He bent low to her and gave her proffered hand a squeeze. "You are truly lovely this evening, Elizabeth."

"Uncle Henry, thank you. You are very kind." The Earl could ever be the gentleman… a welcome change from the less than decorous behavior of the son and nephew. _What ridiculous men and no doubt_ _expecting me to remain exactly as I am for who knows how long_.

"And, so, I ask again why you are standing here alone?

"I am waiting for Fitzwilliam. He should return any moment, I am sure."

"Oh, Mrs. Darcy, tsk, tsk. I learned from my wife long ago that a beautiful woman waits for no man, and most certainly not an inattentive husband. But, his loss shall be my gain. Come, let us go. And, if he has not secured the first set, then will you bestow the honor to this old man?"

"I think you are not _so_ old. But what of Aunt Ellen - she will not be in want of a partner? What of her if she is not _waiting for_ _you_?"

"As to your first question, Richard is his mama's favorite, and she will demand his attendance. As to the second, who do you suppose sent me on errand specifically to fetch you? I am at her beck and call, always."

Elizabeth gave a laugh as she placed her hand upon the sleeve of the Earl of Matlock. "Well then, Uncle Henry, I wish not to disappoint my hostess, and I shall be delighted and honored to open the ball with you. But, tell me, no tartan for you?"

"No, dear, I happily lost that particular wager many, many years ago with your husband's father."

As they were announced by the footman as simply "Leopardess" and "Dashing English Lord" for Lord Matlock was perhaps the only one to skirt his wife's requirement of a costume or character and simply settled for a standard black mask, Elizabeth was unprepared as no less than a hundred set of curious eyes looked upon her. Where did they all come from? She knew several families were settled in the guestrooms of Somerdale earlier in the afternoon though she had not received them herself. The Countess preferred Elizabeth be formally presented during the evening with much more pomp. Though guessing by the way all were focused in her direction, Elizabeth supposed they all knew just who she was… the wife of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, nephew to the Earl of Matlock.

Her natural inclination to courage saved her chin from dropping to the floor.

"Good girl. Now smile, dear." Elizabeth felt a nudge at her side and the gentleman whispered under his breath, and when she saw the Countess come forward flashing a bright but brief smile, Elizabeth knew a warm familial feeling of support. She only prayed she would not blunder this formal introduction to Society's elite. Her previous experiencing dining in the home of the Marquess in Town was nothing to this evening.

Judging by the finery of the guests and the little she knew of those who had been penned invitations, there was no shortage of individuals who held great political and social importance to the Fitzwilliam's place in the upper crust of England. This stage was exceptionally public for being tucked away in a northern county, and since opinion was the currency of reputations – she was expected to court a favorable impression upon those who could be the most generous. She not only had a husband of some standing to represent, she had his family's expectations as well.

The whole situation bit at her. She did not wish to play false and flattering to anyone, and she resolved right then to act as naturally as she could… she was Elizabeth Bennet, rather Elizabeth Darcy… and was never one to be anyone other than herself… though what she would give to be nestled in Hertfordshire this very moment in a comfortable gown playing parlor games with her sisters and the neighbors she had loved.

"Mrs. Darcy, you are extraordinary." The countess inclined her head again and sent her nice by marriage an encouraging face.

At once, Elizabeth dropped into a deep curtsey and looked up to countess sharing a private 'thank you' and bright smile for not only the compliment but the reminder of proper comportment. "Lady Matlock." It seemed the Fitzwilliams held themselves to great formality when in the presence of others outside their family party. _That_ , she thought, should at least provide her enough amusement for the evening.

"Mrs. Darcy, please allow me to introduce you to a few of my friends before we toast your marriage formally later. Please come with me."

"Certainly, Your Ladyship." She removed her hand from Uncle Henry's arm before offering another deep curtsey in his direction. "Your Lordship." She silently questioned him with her eyes as if to seek approval of the formal address.

His mouth twitched as they shared their private joke. "Mrs. Darcy," he bowed over her hand, "please do not forget your promise of the opening set." He then took the hand of his wife and bowed lower as he kissed it.

Elizabeth smiled to see the true affection between her husband's aunt and uncle. The man was five and fifty if a day but still had the charm of youth if not the look, and his eyes, still young despite the gentle framing lines with framed them, were clearly still all for his Countess.

Aunt Ellen held her close as they glided across the room together. Elizabeth attempted a more subdued look that the elder lady next to her clearly mastered some time ago, but it was impossible as she was much too amused that she, Elizabeth Darcy _nee'_ Bennet, gentleman's daughter from Hertfordshire, should inspire so much attention. It was too strange! She could not help but let some laughter falter through. Though the Countess had attempted a warning that her marriage was quite the speculation, Elizabeth could not imagine the fascination in truth.

As Elizabeth was paraded around the room, she tried her best to not watch for Fitzwilliam. She wondered at Lady Matlock hiding her away all afternoon if only to introduce her to practically everyone in attendance before the planned toast at supper. Only thanks be to Providence no one directly sought after her absentee spouse. She grasped to his uncle's words that no woman should have to wait on a man, and resolved she would not.

She accepted the offer of a dance from no less than four gentlemen though only after the Countess or Isabella gave a nod in approval. When there was none to be had, the Aunt Ellen deftly changed the subject keeping Elizabeth from having to respond. The woman had an artistry in her maneuvers.

Some small time later, music was struck with greater purpose. For being a social creature, Elizabeth was exhausted not even an hour into the evening and hoped dancing would provide a much-needed relief from answering often impertinent questions from the curios and having guilt for accepting wishes of joy from the more sincere. As her hostess was distracted, Elizabeth moved a little away from the crowd to better observe those around her.

Until he gently spoke, she did not realize the presence of the gentleman next to her. "Ah, little panther, shall you continue to be a sensation and now impress the hordes with your prowling whilst we dance? I have indeed heard you excel at the skill. This old man promises to do his best to keep up with you." With a spry step and a wry smile, the Earl took the punch from her hand to set on a nearby tray. Elizabeth was beginning to better understand where the son's gained their cheek.

Elizabeth wondered at him knowing anything about her dancing skills or perhaps lack thereof and was quite determined to quiz him as he led her across the room. He leaned close to her ear to respond so no other could hear, "Niece, I apologize for speaking out of turn, but my youngest son seems to not only spy on the French but on our houseguests. Your husband may or may not have been mercilessly teased for the past several days for taking a quick turn about the music room with his lady wife at an ungodly hour. Now, do not blush so, dear, and let us take our place."

Elizabeth could hardly look forward as she dwelt in the misery of her heated cheeks. As they made their way to the top of the line, she vowed she would berate Richard Fitzwilliam like a fishwife at the first opportunity.

So consumed with her humiliation, she walked right into the man who only just barely surpassed the Earl's younger son in her current feelings of revolution toward anyone carrying the name Fitzwilliam in either Christian or Sir form. His abandonment of her over the last hour had been felt keenly.

Her step faltered as her previously absent, presently abominable husband reached out to steady her arm.

She looked up, and if she had been the swooning type, she may have tumbled head over feet.

There he stood… broad smile, broad shoulders, and all. The simple, easy look of sincere adoration on his face was so contrary to what she had seen of him earlier. In fact, she was not sure she had seen him look that way toward her – ever. It was in opposition to every complex idiosyncrasy of the man.

When he picked up her hand to not only kiss her knuckles but retain her fingers with a smile, she stood as if shackled.

"For not asking for your hand, dear wife, let me now repent by stealing it."

His words were enough to break into her mind and relinquish her faculties back unto herself. _Arrogant man_!

"Sir, I am quite used to your not asking but rather taking as you please. However, you will have to excuse me as I am fortunate enough in this instance to be promised elsewhere." She graced him with a smile and felt no remorse for the intonation of her words. Nor did she care if others heard as she did not attempt to lower her voice.

Ready to make a point to her husband – a husband who had not properly shared any words with his wife since being gone these several days, she held herself in place and refused to yield.

Ruth had at least been sent a note by her husband while he was away carousing with the birds. Yet, Fitzwilliam could not even do her the courtesy of an acknowledgement when he had returned earlier in the day. Further, he could not even be bothered to escort her into the ballroom leaving his uncle to search her out. Yes, she was quite ready to make a point of his recent defects.

Fitzwilliam, seemingly and utterly undeterred, grabbed her other hand from where it rested on his uncle's arm, and said, "Elizabeth, if you do not think I will plead right here and upon a bended knee, you are mistaken."

 _Who is this man?_ Elizabeth was about to respond without thought, but the Earl finally cleared his throat over the nonsense and looked around for emphasis as if to remind the young couple they were standing in the middle of a ballroom where the dancers were in place and only stopped from their pending performance by their more dramatic one. After a cutting a harsh look to his nephew which quickly transformed to a smile for his newest niece, the good earl muttered, "Let it not be upon my head to discourage young lovers."

Darcy gave thanks to his uncle and deftly placed his wife's hand in the crook of his arm as he led her into place next to his Aunt – all but dragging her. He bent to Elizabeth's ear, "I beg you forgive me even if only for the next few hours. I also entreat you to not disappoint those who have come to see the spectacle of our marriage."

Elizabeth looked up to him and was further perplexed by the roguish smile, so out of place against his words, that he gave her before taking his place next to a smug Richard who refused to meet _her_ eye but was watching out of his periphery. She would never again trust Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam as just being _jolly cousin Richard_ , and she willed daggers from her eyes to the odious man in his satin black mask until she heard her husband clear his throat.

Fine. She would mold a smile on her face, but she may very well not laugh, and she would not converse unless required or at least until she felt more at peace. No, she would act the good, compliant Mrs. Darcy for this evening to the best of her ability if only out of respect for the Countess and Earl. However, on the morrow, she would allow the two buffoons standing across from her, one in trousers and one in a kilt of all things, to hear her lectures for their several transgressions earlier.

Lady Matlock disrupted Elizabeth's thoughts as she called the dance and started the pattern with her youngest son as the leading couple. Richard crossed in front of Elizabeth and gave a meek smile full of shame and apology. "I beg your forgiveness, Madam." Upon an executed a turn, he once again worked his pathetic face. "N _ow,_ I am most assuredly able to say you are the most alluring lady here."

Elizabeth could not yet feel gracious and so rolled her eyes before looking behind to her husband as if to scold him too for the sin of such detestable relations. Her husband's smile, now not quite as relaxed nor so unconcerned, was at least something with which she was more familiar, and she swore he rolled his eyes too after hearing his cousin's flattery. At that, the corners of her mouth turned up without her knowing it.

Before it was her turn to follow in the dance, she relented with a bow of her head in Richard's direction only half accepting his apology. All the same, she took up the steps as her husband started the perfect execution of his part. As quickly as she observed him, she banished all thought of how his movements showed the advantage of a life led in activity coupled with a natural finesse.

She slowly spun, her steps rising and falling, as he stepped in closer making his movement look as if it were part of the dance. "Mrs. Darcy, we must have some conversation lest others assume you think your partner merely tolerable."

She passed him on the right deliberately withholding her hand though the dance demanded she give it to him. "Then said _others_ would be perfectly attuned to my estimation of said _partner_. However, I am exhausted of _that_ old conversation. As I am used to your silence, you may proceed with what I know is generally your preference."

"You can claim no understanding at all of my preferences, Mrs. Darcy. But what say you to poetry? I think we have some common ground there, or rather we did in the past." For some unknown purpose, the evidence of outrage on her face lightened the heavy spirits which took a colossal effort on his part to conceal.

After Richard had left sitting him in the sitting room stewing in resentment, Darcy spent time acknowledging his cousin was correct in at least he was duty-bound to pay every attention to his wife for the duration of the evening. It was for the sake of her, him, Georgie, and their reputations. No matter the circumstances, he knew his new status as a married man would be fodder for the _ton_ , but he would prefer it be of a positive light in hopes it may silently retreat into the category of _old news_.

He felt a little sick to his stomach for the part he would play this evening – he was no good at being intentionally forward – and especially for the sake of others, but it was his obligation. He knew it, and he was sure Elizabeth knew it. He made his position on the subject of their public relationship clear several times now, not the least of which when he demanded it of her the day after their wedding.

He rolled his shoulders at the reminder of all that had transpired.

Fitzwilliam was just unsure how to go about it all given the current state of things – she was clearly displeased with him as they danced – and things were awkward at best until he felt his heart pick-up at her reproachful eyes. He could swear there was a hint of blush around her neck. Dismissing the voice of Mr. Bennet in rolling in the recess of his mind about baiting her to his own detriment, he placed his blunt on the line and decided his best option was to put forth his most charming attempt to vex her thinking it might give rise to her courage.

With determination, he locked his eyes with hers and deliberately took in her form starting at the top of her curly head slowly moving to the dainty slippers which peaked out from under her skirt as she turned this way and that. When his eyes traveled back to hers, her chin was held high and there was an amused expression somewhere within her seething one. He knew at once he would take delight in spending the rest of the evening attempting to exploit her pluck for the benefit of them both; it was too fun a prospect to resist. As long as certain subjects which were navigated with care, he was convinced she might meet him in a volley of wit. Thinking on it, he had missed their banter. And, he could always apologize later.

She again took a step meeting him the middle of the dancers, and now it was his turn to make a turn around her. He pressed for full advantage. "Shall we speak of Blake, milady, or perhaps something more traditional such as Donne? The middle of a ballroom is just as fine as a library for us to take our pleasure in the subject." He briefly stopped to whisper in her ear. The smell of her hair was overcoming as he shadowed his voice with a breath he realized had briefly halted before resuming with heaviness.

"Scandal be damned for our own enjoyment, Elizabeth."

He was glad she was standing in place as he thought she might stumble if she had been in movement, and he attempted to shed the guilt which quickly seeped over him at his unabashed indulgence of watching the rosy color creep down from where it had been on her neck only to disappear into the almost black color of her gown.

Was she not his wife? Was he not now allowed to at least _look_ if he wished it? And, look he did until he realized again the disadvantages of his being forced by his honor into a kilt. _Damnable Scottish!_ He quickly shifted away as she now joined him in step, at least _her_ composure was regained.

Elizabeth, despite his hopeful expectations, did not take to his lure. Her movements were controlled, almost stiff, and her voice deepened as if she was all about business. "State your purpose, Sir. Do you intend to disconcert me for your own sport? If so, I will not have it." She was now all self-preservation.

Out of concern, he grabbed her hand a moment before the dance required it and squeezed as he searched her masked eyes with his own, turning slowly and giving no thought as those still standing down the line indulged their curiosity. "No, I would never. Forgive me."

If he had not been so occupied with the effect of her slow smile, he may have more clearly observed how a simple, sincere apology might go a long way to melt the fears secreted in his wife's heart.

She extracted her hand and gave a shake of her head, "You are forgiven - try Donne – though you know very traditional is not an apt description. But, I am now better prepared, so do your worst." She then executed a dainty hop away from him. It was time they moved down the dance so the others might begin. He really did not enjoy dancing, but he was quite glad to mimic her movements and give chase.

After a breath and little leap which made him feel quite the fool, he caught her. "A moment, madam. I believe Donne had a particular line or two about Hellespont… you know I believe someone may have drowned there at one point… between the Sestos and the Abydos… I am trying to place it."

He almost snickered at his clever, suggestive words thinking Richard may have been proud of him; however, Richard was still not forgiven by either and had no head nor the patience for poetry. It was just as well as Darcy recalled he very much considered himself above snickering.

As for Elizabeth, she was astounded and turned her head to the neckline of her dress looking at the fleshy rise of _the Sestos and the Abydos_ pushed up by stays which were much too tight for comfort or modesty.

The unbidden image of her husband drowning there gave her a feeling which had no proper place in a ballroom.

She cursed for the hundredth time the French modiste and the woman's idea of a proper bodice. Lizzy had fancied herself with a tucker, but Tabitha insisted lace would be an injustice to the gown's workmanship and intent. Quite put out with both of the women and now again with her husband, she let a scold slip off her tongue. "You would not dare choose _that_ as a subject of discussion."

"I believe I just did. And, in a ballroom."

She raised her eyes to see her husband's stray down again as he moved without thought, clearly being experienced in the steps. How he danced and gaped all at once she had no clue. He was a horrible, horrible man.

Though she was not quite sure to do with the thrill she was currently experiencing. Still, something must be done.

"Sir!" She reached out to flick his arm with her finger to pull him back to the conversation. "I think we can now be done with poetry."

"Done before we have even had a proper had a beginning? How apropos, Mrs. Darcy."

She turned her head away feeling entirely too heated and not knowing what her husband was about. Surely he had not meant make any allusion to the state of their marriage with so many around straining to hear them.

"Come now, Elizabeth."

She turned back toward him, quickly took his hand briefly as the dance demanded and then made a series of steps before she stood to face him again.

He smiled, eyes holding hers only a moment before he looked down – to the floor this time, as they stood there waiting on their neighbor to complete a series of steps. "We are married, can you truly fault me for my appreciation? You look very nice this evening." Really, she was the loveliest creature in the room, but he could not say that. He turned in step to the dance.

At some point, her native affability reappeared in the form of a smile only to quickly ebb again. A few moments of awkward silence finally pushed her to return his impudent speech with something saucy of her own. "Sir, shocked as I am at your choice from all the topics you might choose otherwise, I may rejoice and safely rejoin how I can, at the very least, take comfort in you not personally sharing the point of view which the author argues for in that particular elegy."

She gave him credit for not sputtering as she furthered a topic which was not at all safe for them and certainly not appropriate for a dance in a very public setting. At least they were almost to the end of the line. Country dances were not for the faint of heart, and neither was their conversation.

"Madam, how would you know anything of that interpretation?" He should have known better to think Elizabeth was not familiar with the verse he mentioned. She had already proved her love of the written word rivaled his own. But, how could she, an innocent country maiden, interpret the poet's wildly exaggerated contention that love may only be truly expressed through a physical manifestation? To be clear, it was a point with which he disagreed. However, he was an educated man, a man of the world to almost all degrees, and spent much time meditating over what he read.

As she passed again to his right, she leaned in just not being able to help herself, "The better question, Sir, is how might _you_ know anything of _that_?"

He was not sure if he should be insulted for his lack of experience, in which case, it would be preposterous for her to hold his morals against him, or perhaps, it was meant as a compliment that he was not one to view love as just a pure physical union.

He felt flustered and humiliated just the same. Yes, how would he know anything of _Love's Progress_? And, how even it was her fault! It was times like this when he wished he was a man of lesser character. Where were his just desserts for adhering to principle all of those years?

They separated at the end of the line, and as his wife turned to her neighbor to give a greeting, he gazed upon her from across the way ready to put an end to poetry. He easily conceded the point to her and was quite prepared if not quite ready to move on towards another match. "And what you say to politics, Mrs. Darcy?"

She laughed though only ten minutes before she had determined not to, and how she knew then how much she relished it. "Mr. Darcy, I think any subject is preferable to the former."

Before William could think of some quandary to put to his wife, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Darcy quickly dismissed Richard's raised eyes brow and then caught a similar expression in the face of his aunt across from him. How had he not realized during the whole of their dancing who their other partners were?

Very well, he had gone this far. He moved his gaze back to his wife, ignoring the small hairs standing on his neck. He gave her a smile happy enough as to convince the whole of England there could never be a man to feel more love and adoration for his bride.

He was not sure if the ill feeling which immediately overtook him was from the way the hordes were examining him, from the remnants of his overindulgence the night before, or for the fact that there might be a hint of truth to that very feeling.

* * *

Elizabeth could not recall enjoying herself more at a ball. Her first masquerade did not disappoint. She was disconcerted as to how it all started and then even more so at the strange behavior of Fitzwilliam, but she eventually settled it in her mind for what it was – duty. He flirted and not exactly in a practiced way – she now realized such after spending time in the company of his cousins as they were true examples – his attempts were not at all of a roguish nature that she sometimes attributed to him in Hertfordshire.

His manner tonight did indeed recall the more pleasant time she with Fitzwilliam in Hertfordshire and at Jane's engagement ball. She was beginning to now understand he perhaps had been truly sincere in his affectionate manner all those weeks previous, for she now belatedly understood his feelings for her had run deeper than she could suppose. _Naïve, foolish girl!_

However, all that was no more. He did not seek her out unless for a specific purpose. He did not flirt unless there was an audience. At every instance they might be upon the point of a stolen moment, he retreated. She could not really blame him.

She put these contemplations away and focused on the air of excitement around her. The costumes were full of flare and elegance. She drank spiced ale and a champagne punch which suspiciously grew stronger with every cup. There were tortells topped with glazed fruit, and Elizabeth delighted at the way the honey melted on her tongue. There was even chocolate covered marzipan of which her husband seemed particularly fond. She was delighted to see Fitzwilliam join the rest of humanity and their occasional less-than-fine manners when he took a mincemeat pie only to squint one of his eyes in revulsion.

How shocked she was when he discreetly removed a currant from his mouth only to place it in a potted plant. She was speaking to Isabella, or rather Lady Isabella, at the time and could not keep her countenance at observing her husband. She was becoming to understand that his palate was not so broad as his appetite. If there were fish on the table, his nose would crinkle ever so slightly. Carrots were passed over every time in favor of potatoes, and heaven help him if prepared mustard was in the vicinity of his dinner plate. And, now she knew currants were out of favor as well. He was ever so subtle in his preferences, but he was certainly overly particular. How strange is was to begin to know someone so well who was not her own family!

Before the supper set, children who had not fallen asleep in the ruckus of their own activities were invited to join their parents. Georgiana shyly played at the instrument while some of the young voices sang songs of the season. It was not long before the good-natured adults and those whose natures were only good in proportion to the amount of punch they drank joined the young ladies and gentlemen. The musicians were even moved to relieve Georgiana of the need to express her talents at the pianoforte.

Elizabeth had not expected such a genuine, spirited time such people for company. Of course, haughty manners, curious stares, and a few allusions to her hasty marriage abounded. But, as most the room sang along celebrating the end of the yule season, it was easy to forget the more challenging guests.

After the impromptu singing was concluded, a great king cake, tiers of gallette des rois, was wheeled in on a cart and passed to servant and nobleman alike. Elizabeth had to hold her sister in place when it was discovered she bit upon pea as a dashing young man across the room, a second son of no more than nine and ten, was discovered to have found the bean. There was a coronation, the Earl of Matlock proud to oversee it all though Georgiana could not find her voice to issue any decree. The king of the evening likewise had his tongue in a vice.

When Richard intervened insisting his young charge remain to take her place in the supper set for her first real dance, it only being fair since she was queen, and at that, take her place across the newly minted male sovereign, Elizabeth thought she might be called upon to bodily restrain her husband. It was the only time his ill-temper made an appearance in the night, and she coaxed him into taking their place next to the young pair and teased him mercilessly out of his rage until it was time to seat themselves in the grand dining room. In a fell swoop, Richard extracted his youngest cousin and escorted her out of the room and back to the safety of the children's party before Darcy could have an apoplexy or challenge the red-faced young man who only took very proper, fleeting looks at his angelic partner.

Since there was no receiving line at the beginning of the night, all being in shrouded in character, the Earl and Countess made a special toast at supper to their nephew and his wife, thus officially introducing Elizabeth into Society, or at least as officially as one could be introduced without having taken a curtsey to the real Queen, Her Majesty.

As the night marched on, masks begin to fall away as did any remaining stuffy manners, and by the time the final dance of the night was being called upon, only half the guests remained and the masquerade had descended into something more of a polite melee full of laughter and loud voices.

Perhaps it was the lowered light as the taxed candles had burned into the night which caused her husband to throw away any caution which remained and boldly spin her around close as he led her to take their place in their third dance of the evening. He had watched her politely dance with others while lying in wait for his next opportunity to hold her hand, and he would not allow her an escape when she sweetly suggested he had done his duty well enough for one evening if he wished to forego the last. She explained she knew he was not fond of dancing, and before she could finish her sentence, he told her that he was fond of dancing with her.

His eyes solely focused on hers as he wordlessly pulled her by the hand to stand in the circle with the others who felt able to keep up with the fast moving waltz and brave enough to ignore the wagging tongues who might spout gossip from their scandalized mouths. Yes, the Countess could be just daring enough when called upon – how else had she established herself as a leading leady to be emulated among the _ton_?

Elizabeth felt light in her head as looked upon Fitzwilliam Darcy. His dark eyes, now unmasked, were much too soft for her composure, and again she damned the light burning much too low for anyone's good. How much punch had she consumed to believe him capable of bestowing such warmth upon her after all the terrible, confusing days of their marriage?

"My dearest… Elizabeth…"

Elizabeth could not tolerate how her name was murmured from his lips. Much, too much, punch – it was the most rational explanation for the fluttering and tingles she felt all over her skin. It was unbearable to look at him, so she studied her own slippers as the musicians finished the last tuning of their instruments.

"Do overlook this, I beg you." Elizabeth was not sure of what her husband spoke until he gently pulled her right hand up to his chest and so pulling her somewhat intoxicated gaze back to meet his own hazy eyes. The line of his mouth was intent though one corner was turned up in a way which made his face impossibly handsome. For the first time that night, she scrutinized him, all of him.

She thought it somewhat ridiculous to see her husband, usually so perfectly attired and polished, dressed as a Scotsman. But the look became him. He was rugged and his strength perfectly on display. His face was peppered with a stubble that took the edge off his formality. _Would he look so in the morning upon waking?_

With his legs so exposed, except for the stockings which stopped half-way up his calf held in place by tartan garters, it was clear to anyone who looked upon him that he was a fit man who did not just idly lounge away his days. And, she admired him for it.

The top half of the man showed him to be the good Englishman he was, fine black jacket and crisp linen shirt fitted closely to the expanse of his chest though his neckcloth was not so elaborate and showed more of the neck she had only seen on few occasions.

She was lost when she returned to his face. He did not seem to care at all as she studied him. He was still holding her hand, and what little of her wits were left deserted her when he hooked his finger into the top of her glove and rolled it down her arm. He took the satin which covered her finger tips and stripped the garment gently away to be secreted in his pocket before removing both of his own. She was utterly enthralled, insensible to the stares, and thus could only be stunned at the feel of his skin when he took her hand back in his. He placed his other along her middle where the velvet seemed much too thin fanning over her hip and whipped her into turn after turn.

She wondered at her feet hitting the floor and the silence which seemed perfectly tense and wonderful all at the same time.

More sure though was she of the awareness of his fingers along her side. She felt every pressure, every sensation of his grasp.

Later, Elizabeth would not be able to recount if the dance lasted ten seconds or ten minutes. All she would recall was his closeness and that her eyes never once left his.

Before she knew what her husband was about, he had stopped twirling her around and released her. _When had the music stopped?_

Fitzwilliam stood before her. The gentleness was now broken and his usual decorum returned. She was hardly sensible to recognize it.

With a bow, he spoke in low tones. "Madam, I thank you for your good will and humor tonight. I believe we were a success. I shall find you later. Excuse me just now."

 _Air. I need air_.

Elizabeth came out from under his spell as he walked away from her leaving her to somehow support herself. As quickly as she could, not caring how cold the air was, she made her way to the terrace and stared blankly into the moonlight occasionally watching carriage lamps retreat into the distance carrying the guests who resided in close enough proximity to return safely to their own beds. What she would give if Longbourn were not so far! And, how she might not have to give anything if her husband might give her a chance to love him… for she was sure she could.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N:** I have posted Ch 31-33 tonight, please go back and read… and keep reading even if you wish to throw your phone/computer or write me a nastygram. (BTW – I will graciously accept them with an open mind!) Just do me a solid and make it to the end of this one.

Also, for those of you wishing they'd be locked in a room, here's to the first instance of that happening! Cheers!

* * *

The guests who could, had left, and those who were to stay for the evening were secured in their own rooms. It was only the family who was still loitered about making their way through the house. Elizabeth, still relishing the last dance of the evening and the confusing manner in which Fitzwilliam had left her side was making her way back from the cold terrace to find her room.

As she made her way through the marbled foyer to the stair, Richard appeared before her, smug and boyish as ever since she had come to know him.

He bowed to her, "My fair, Mrs. Darcy."

Her lips turned up as she rolled her eyes back in such a dramatic fashion he was sure to see it despite the small flickers of candle light. "You, sir, are incorrigible. Do you annoy all the married ladies in such fashion or is it just Ruth and myself? For I cannot believe anyone can actually count themselves as charmed by you."

"Madam, how you wound your cousin." He placed his hand over his heart and mocked her by stumbling back if gravely wounded. "I am afraid I must exact revenge, my dear, for your harsh words."

Richard, appearing every bit the rogue Elizabeth was beginning to know he was, lifted a corner of his mouth and reached up to pluck a berry from the unfortunate greenery she belatedly realized was suspended above her head. _Why must there be so much of this blasted mistletoe strung about everywhere?_ She had done her best to avoid it since her introduction to the house and especially through the night.

Elizabeth plucked the berry from his hand in a manner somewhere between vexation and mirth. She felt he meant no harm, but she would take a chance with such a devil. "Twelfth night is over, _Cousin_ Richard."

Any further chastisement was halted as her husband's stern face came from an opposite door. "Richard, if you know what is good for your health, you shall properly bid my wife goodnight at once."

Despite the hard lines on her husband's face, she could see a hint of the same amused annoyance in his eyes at Richard's behavior, and that put her at ease.

At his cousin's demand, Richard stood up at attention, clicked his heels, and saluted them both despite being decked in a fine and formal tailcoat and not regimentals. When he turned for the stair, he made no effort to stop his laughter from ringing out.

Darcy came before his wife. "I cannot express enough apology for his behavior. He and Stephen are both abominable at even the best of times." Giving more thought, he added, "Though Richard has a special affinity for antagonizing those who do not deserve it. I am sorry he such a nuisance."

Elizabeth, her sense mostly regained since they had parted after their waltz, rolled the small berry around in her gloveless hand. "As charming as they can be on occasion, your family _is_ rather trying, sir. Do not look behind you, but standing atop the stair peering over the railing are three sets of eyes which resemble yours and a more feminine pair which seems to hold a great interest in our conversation I believe we have quite a captive audience. It is a shame neither one us enjoys performing for strangers, because tonight we seemed to be doing quite a credible job of it."

The last glass of punch and the way Fitzwilliam swept her around the ballroom earlier broke the reserve she had left and emboldened her tongue. She arched her brow at him over a full smile and proffered him a gift in the form of something small, white, and round. "Sir, you may as well get the expected over with so the gallery may be appeased. I wish to retire."

Elizabeth wondered if her intended tease was unwelcome by the way stared at her. All amusement was no longer present in his darkened, narrowed eyes. She immediately prayed he would not stock off.

Instead, he stalked toward her so close she felt his breath, and it was apparent he had partaken something stronger than the punch. Her hand was somewhat trapped between them, and he reached out to take the offering placing it in an inside pocket of his jacket. When he moved his eyes back to hers, he held them in an invisible clutch and then, slowly, ever so deliberately, reached up to strip the white, round favors from their branch, one by one.

Neither moved as he took the last and just stood before her, blinking.

Elizabeth was too close and so took a step back before she did something which she was not sure he wished for. There was a drumming in her ears the distance could not drown out. If anything he became steadier in his intentions with the exception of his chest rising and falling with the same rapidity as hers.

In a fit of pique, Fitzwilliam stood on his toes and ripped the offending, pillaged greenery from its place secured high over their heads leaving it discarded it on the floor with an irreverent curse. The aggressor had no care for it landing in the middle of the marble entry.

 _Good Lord_.

Replacing the heat that was there but a moment ago, a feeling of panic welled in Elizabeth's breast at his barbarian display. She had not wished to make him angry. As she carefully backed away, her body was stocked by his and her person arrested his hands.

He never once looked over his shoulder to see his ridiculous family watching in anticipation as if this Drury Lane. He pulled his wife's form to his and pressed his lips to hers with the pent up fervor of his feelings which had done nothing but escalate since he had seen her come down the stairs in an almost-black, velvet gown showing her off in a way he wished for his eyes only.

The flesh of her mouth capitulated as the panic she felt moments ago became a rapture of ring heat under the linen of her chemise. Her hands found his chest wishing to feel him as much as possible under her fingertips. She knew not what she was about. She thought she may expire when she felt his thumbs caress a most gentle, firm pressure over hips, and she could do naught to stop her palms from tearing through his coat to rest high on the firmness of his back. All her gentle tendencies were lost the moment he touched her.

He pushed her into the jamb of the door opening… and, when he removed his mouth only to replace it on her jaw, she moaned something sounding very close to his name. All coherent thought was removed from her mind including the thought of an audience at the intimacy she affected in a single word.

At the sound of her gasping his name, he was almost overcome. He was a man who burned for a wife he had never made his own. When his mouth trailed up her neck to her ear, he finally found some control in recalling there were valid reasons as to why he had never had her like this as his wife. He refocused to his purpose. His aunt had questioned his marriage, and he would be damned to allow it. If their façade crumbled, he surely would as well. But, that did not mean he was a savage.

He slowed his breathing and became cognizant of how intimately he held her under his hands. It was as if he could direct her simply with his fingertips. _What was a foolish thought, for Elizabeth cannot be played as a marionette._ "Tell me, do they still stand there?"

Elizabeth, coming back from a faraway land of desire, opened her eyes to the ceiling. Of course, this was nothing more than what she herself alluded to earlier… a grand performance for the benefit of others. She felt like a fool, and more so when her eyes rolled back as her husband's hands meandered their way from her hips to her waist, the glorious pressure of his fingers still pressed against her. Willing herself to be respectable, although nothing about her current position was so, she flicked her gaze to the top of the stairs.

"Two of them had the good grace to abandon their untoward observation, but two remain. This is untenable."

He let out a rough sigh against her ear, and though they should have jumped apart, her body betrayed her at the feeling of his breath on her skin. She pushed herself closer against him without thought, not even of her own volition. All the horrible words and hurtful actions, the loathing and self-recriminations which had been present since their marriage, was removed from her mind, and all that was left was a feeling of wanting.

To her delight, she felt his body push back against hers. His hands fell back to her hips and pull her briefly closer. All of her principles might be abandoned in the work of an instant if he would but carry her away right at this moment.

His words broke her heedless abandon.

"Madam, forgive me for this. I would not inopportune you so unless required." With that being said, he stepped back, bent over and threw her over his shoulder. His arms were tight around her legs trying to preserve any modesty such a position could afford.

So, she was wrong. This was not what she had in mind.

As quickly as he stoked her desire, he extinguished it with his sudden, shocking actions. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, put me down this instant!" She tried to kick her legs to no avail, but he could not stop her fists as she pounded his back.

He said nothing as he took each stair with a deliberate step as it was no effort to have her struggling in his arm. He stopped in front of his aunt and Richard, refusing to acknowledge the latter's gleeful countenance. His unbearable cousin would be dealt with later. Thankfully Elizabeth had stilled as he neared them, and he could cover her ankles with her velvet skirts.

"Aunt, I must congratulate you on a successful night. Please send word to Mr. Johnson and Miss Harris that their services are not required until they are called for in the morning." He inclined his head and turned slightly for his wife to bid her adieus.

Elizabeth could hardly stand to lift her head to the Aunt Ellen and Richard. This was the more obscene than kissing her husband with all to see. She was going to strangle her husband.

She finally looked into the genuine smile of Lady Matlock and ignored the son. "Yes, your Ladyship, it was a very fine evening. We thank you for the honor. Please have a pleasant rest."

Richard could not hold himself together any longer, "Yes, Mrs. Darcy, you as well. Although, my cousin seems to have that well in hand."

Before Darcy turned to reprimand his relation, the Countess swatted her fan across the back of her son's head. "Richard Alexander, you will mind your tongue before I turn you out to the stables for the night." And, like a naughty boy of five years, the grown man minded his mother and snapped his mouth closed with a look of contrition. It was clear who wielded the authority at Somerdale.

The matron turned to Elizabeth and bent her head to the side with a look of delight. "My dear, if you wish to send your husband to join my son to sleep with the swine, I shall withhold judgement. Either way, please know Henry and I were more than pleased to present you to our friends and acquaintances tonight. You have made us all proud. Have a good night, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth nodded her head in deference as best she could from her mortifying position and was thusly carried off by her husband to her room.

The door closed behind them with a kick of his shoe, and Fitzwilliam deposited her on the bed in a heap. He quickly walked into her dressing room and closed the door. Elizabeth was speechless and confounded as her skirts billowed around her in a mess. What was the meaning of this? He could not kiss her like he had, throw her over his shoulder to mortify her so, and then hide in her dressing room. Her temper rose and she hopped off the bed kicking off her slippers in the process.

She stood before the door. "Sir, you will present yourself. Do not think I will allow you to hide in there among my things all night."

He did not respond, and she felt silly at hesitating to intrude upon him. It was _her_ dressing room after all.

Finally the knob turned and the door to the darkened room creaked open. As light entered, Darcy turned to sit upon an upholstered bench absently taking an interest at his wife belongings which were surrounding him in where once was his own refuge. Of course, it made sense her personal effects had taken over his domain, his refuge of comfort.

Elizabeth almost felt sorry for him he looked despondent for what reason she did not quite know. She truly lacked complete understanding of his behavior over not just the past quarter of an hour but night complete. They must speak before the dark room and the feeling of his lips upon her neck just a short time ago distracted her to act in a contrary fashion to her feelings of indignation. The night had been a whirlwind of flirting and feeling, and her knees could not take much more before she thought she might crumple into his lap. Such a tempting thought.

"Explain yourself, Fitzwilliam."

"This afternoon my aunt questioned why I had not visited your rooms, which interestingly have always been my rooms, since being here."

Elizabeth's brows creased in irritation and confusion. "Your rooms? I am sorry they were given to me, then. I have wondered at some of the things I have found in here… but, surely Tabitha would not divulge that information to your aunt. I cannot believe it of her. And, I know Mr. Johnson would never…"

"No, you mistake the matter. The chambermaids, I am sure. This is her house, and the staff is loyal. And, my aunt is nothing but thorough if her suspicions are aroused."

"And, so you thought to make a grand display?"

"Elizabeth, forgive me if I do not recall your complaint of all my attentions. Then again, I surrender all presumptions where it concerns you! But, I ask you for compassion of my feelings for once! Do you truly think this night has been so easy for me? I understand you may not truly know my nature, but I have suffered from discomfort at being on display the whole of my adult life, and having to act so brazenly does not suit me either. I do apologize for kissing you and carrying you up the stairs in such a rough manner though. Surely that show will reassure my aunt and keep her from meddling further."

"I do not understand how our marriage is her concern. This has become a charade." Elizabeth's frustration was coming through in her raised voice. She was tired of conciliating his family to the detriment of her heart. And, she would have never expected it of _him_.

"Please quiet your voice lest we wake Georgie. She sleeps in the next room. As for my aunt, she is the closest thing to a mother Georgianna and I have. When my own mother died, I was twelve. My father was lost in a bottle for several years after until Mr. Johnson and my uncle pulled him back to his former self. My aunt and uncle stepped in to heal the breach in our lives. She considers me as her own, and a mother only wants to assure herself of her child's happiness. I cannot stand to disappoint her in my marriage, nor unnecessarily disappoint my dear sister. I do not wish Georgie to have the example of a marriage of convenience where we hardly tolerate each other. Her notion of domestic felicity and ideals of love has been wrecked after the previous summer in a way you could not know. Seeing me happily married and spending time with you has given her great joy again."

Fitzwilliam bit his fist in humiliation of speaking so openly and shifted to look away from Elizabeth not knowing where all that had come from. It was not a pleasant thing to open oneself up to another… especially when the hope of trust was mostly missing.

Elizabeth, astonished, remained silent not knowing how to comfort her husband. She had not a clue as to what he referred to when he spoke with Georgie although her suspicions had been raised more than once in speaking to the young girl herself. Above all though, It was evident her husband's peace was quite threatened.

Finally, he looked back to her. "You are correct, however. I cannot expect us to continue with disguise any longer. It disgusts me to be so false as I am sure it does you. It is not fair to put other's concerns above yours. I am sure tonight was a great trial for you despite how convincing you were."

Unbidden, the feeling of stepping closer into her husband's embrace during their waltz crossed her mind, and unknowingly, the smile Elizabeth graced with him over the thought caused him to start.

He felt a heat grow inside of him when he recalled how she pushed her body into his after their kiss. Yes, convincing, indeed. He should not believe it of her though. The last time he thought he stood a chance at her love, he was proved wrong in such a way as to permanently scar him. He turned away from her smile.

Elizabeth came to where he sat and knelt before him using her hand to lift his head from where it rested in both of his own. When he looked to her again, pulling his face away from her hands, her gentle look was still there. Did she did take compassion on him now?

"Fitzwilliam, it is late. Let us discuss this more in the morning. Do you anticipate sleeping on this bench? I do not think it will fit you if you intend to stretch out." He was under a great deal of pressure as was she, and it would not do. They must talk, but first, they should attempt sleep.

"No, I will return to my own room and leave you in peace. The chambermaids be damned. You are right, my aunt should not concern herself."

"Oh no, you did not mortify me by hauling me over your shoulder for nothing. Come, and help me." Elizabeth grabbed his hand and led him back into her chamber where there was more light. She turned her back to him. "Please, just the top buttons to the middle, please. You will have to play the role of lady's maid since you barred mine." Elizabeth flushed as she asked her husband to assist her with her dress, but she could not imagine sleeping in it.

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood behind frantically trying to get ahold of himself by studying her hair which had begun to escape their pins and bandeau. _No, those loose curls make everything worse._

He shifted his scrutiny to her creamy neck and then further, examining each button until there were no more. _Good Lord_. The swell at the base of her back was so lush his hands begged to reach out. His palms were damp, and his breath was coming shorter.

Other than the day she was fitted for her new clothing, she had not seen her in her underclothing. And, he most certainly had never unbuttoned a woman's dress. He swallowed hard taking the first small, velvet button in his hand trying to extract it from its loop. His fingertip graced the skin above her dress, and he stepped back. "Perhaps, I shall ring for your maid."

She did not turn around. "The first one gave Tabitha trouble. Try the others. I will see if I can reach the top one." As he fumbled for the second one and cursed his kilt for the hundredth time, Elizabeth reached her small fingers around to catch the first button. He stilled as he watched her skillful fingers work to free that constraint. He was mesmerized by the way her small hands moved so gracefully and willed his own not to reach out to just rip the offending dress down her body.

Buttons were agonizing, and they were set to kill him one at a time.

He should not have drunk that glass of Brandy when he fled to his uncle's study after their last dance. Did he not just swear off alcohol? And, by the smell of lavender in her hair, he was now sure he was intoxicated more so than he had been the night before when he succumbed to the pleasure a good aged, French wine could afford.

"There, the first and most difficult is done, perhaps you can get the others now?" She still did not look over her shoulder. He gazed at the back of her dress, and then his eyes wandered over to the bed, something so familiar, and he recalled the first day of their arrival when he came into the room to find her napping there in only a dressing gown which had come somewhat undone.

He looked back to the dress. He would act the gentleman he had failed to be this evening and disabuse the thoughts which were threatening to consume him. He gathered it was possible her passion would demand a response if he took her in his arms right now since it had every time he kissed her since the first. But, he would not make that mistake when there was such temptation over to his right in the form of his childhood bed. And, to tempt her so was not fair to either of them.

He exposed her stays half-way down her back. He saw lacing and wondered if she would kill him further by need assistance with _that_. "Can you manage from here, or shall I continue?" He meant to sound calm as he asked but failed miserably sounding like the green youth Richard had called him earlier.

She sounded just as breathless. "Just a few more please… and then… if you can untie the lace at the bottom of my… I will do the rest."

He started to think of everything distracting he could as he completed his task – the letter his Earl had sent to Lady Catherine, the taskmaster at Eton who had rapped his knuckles for a full year when he was ten years old, the pheasants he had shot the days before, and so on.

 _Dear God_.

He had unbuttoned far enough to see the lacings at the end of her short stays. He focused on the back of her head as untied and pulled on the cords.

He was losing his head.

His work must of have been complete because she hastily stepped away and returned herself to the dressing room without a backward glance and doing her best to hold her dress in place with her hands.

He heard her quiet words of thanks before she disappeared deep into the smaller room.

He was not sure what to do with himself as he waited, and he needed to take care of some personal business himself. The drink he consumed after waltzing with his wife had run its course. It was a cold night, but he desperately needed a blast of something frigid anyhow, so he took himself to the balcony to gain some sense and eventually relieve himself without having to embarrass Elizabeth about it.

Ignoring the chill which flew under his kilt and did nothing for his ardor, he looked over the white patches still on the fields in the distance that reflected a full moon. He looked up to the heavens for answers.

 _What would this night be like if she loved me_? Despite the uncertainty of earlier in the evening and really their entire acquaintance, he had enjoyed this night with her so very much. No, more than that, he loved every second in her presence. He finally felt like a married man instead of being trapped in hell.

During their time at Somerdale, he had admitted a little more every day how much he still wanted her despite how things had spiraled out of control the night of the wedding. The anger and defeat from the first few weeks of their union were drifting away and the wounds were no longer raw. He felt so alive in her presence when they pretended at being at being more than jilted enemies who well… pretended.

He had been so outwardly expressive tonight toward her for all to see – scarred out of his kilt about it at first – it was quick to come more natural than he would have otherwise thought. And, he shocked his Aunt's guests, and his own friends even, despite the gossip incited in London.

He knew his reputation for being staid, sober, and quiet. But, the way he flirted and danced with his wife was anything but those things. She made him forget any awkwardness he had always felt before meeting her. She encouraged him to put away his cold, natural bearing.

She was like his _joie de vivre_. If she could manage to fill him with such happiness it when they were now only barely friends with little understanding, how much happiness could they have if they were lovers, partners?

He took a gulp air at the idea and appreciated the cold that helped calm the shock in his chest.

When he kissed her earlier, he wanted to carry her to her chamber in truth with no reference to his interfering family and let their passions guide them to what he only had imagined in his dreams. More than possessing her body into a response, he truly wished to possess her heart and soul.

His anger he realized was fully extinguished as if an unstoppable torrent completely doused the hot embers of wrath. How he desperately wanted to have her heart! He was a fool to not have done from the start. He should have remained a gentleman from the first. She had her flaws, but she was worthy of his best efforts. And, so far, his best effort had been to compromise her into a marriage for which she was not reconciled to and blame her for her reaction. It was abominable at best and dishonorable at worst. He could no longer fault her lashing out at him and leaving him in a panic on their wedding night when she learned the truth that he had been given an opportunity to leave her in peace as she requested… though he would never know peace without her, he was sure.

He had spent much time since marrying her trying to understand why she was so angry. He had settled on the major point of her not feeling she had a choice in the matter. Was that not what had set her off that fateful night? Had he not admired her independent spirit upon coming to know her?

As he stared at the constellations, so far out of reach – just like his wife, thinking of his wedding night and how to come back from such a terrible place, he thought of his father's letter to him. His father warned there would be dark times.

 _...Let these be the moments your commitment shines forth... Give more effort... Put your faith in your wife_ …

He hung his head at his father's words. He had done no such thing. Instead, he told her she would have to forsake her feelings and pretend in the company of others. He recalled Jane's letter he had foolishly read. She could not even confide in her dearest friend, her sister, as to her own hurt and worries. She had evidently told Jane all was well when it was not. If his heart was broken, mayhap hers as affected as well. All her hopes and wishes surely must have been dashed the day her father witnessed him taking advantage of her in the grove. He was a gentleman and knew better. He did not even know what Elizabeth's hopes were. He was ashamed.

And, now she was reduced being paraded in front of society and his family as a wife in love with a husband she was forced to marry. There was no way to undo time, but perhaps he could give her a happy life. Surely she felt something just as he did when they kissed, when they touched. It gave him hope. But, he would have to be careful to not take advantage. For her, he had belatedly realized, passion was not a fruit of her love, it was innate to her being.

They must leave the presence of his family. He would have to win her on his own merit without the pressure of expectations. She had to be free to act towards him without reference to others.

He might lay anything at her feet for a better chance, and he would start by giving her what she wanted most… a choice. And, he decided right then that he would. He would take her away so she could be herself. If she could not come to see a happy future with him, then he would offer her an establishment of her own, other's be damned.

He was at a loss of where to go. The continent would be optimal, but that would be impossible given the state strife in the world. Pemberley, though he missed his home, was out of the question. It would break him to take her there, showing her the places that made him who he was, without knowing she loved him or would wish to stay. No, he could not share such a sacred place with her yet.

Reaching for the mistletoe berries he had picked and casting them into the moonlight, he thought more about the day in the grove on her father's estate. He recalled asking her what she wished for. Looking back, he both loved and hated that moment. The feel of her in his hands before Mr. Bennet came upon them had never left his mind, but he now knew he should never have pinned his hopes on her body's response. Bingley had already seen them embrace – it was true, but Bingley could have been managed. He should have gone about things much differently that day as he had already determined he wanted her for a wife.

He should have laid himself bare, asked for her hand, and then respected the answer of her heart… even if it was not the answer he wished for.

Shaking his head and throwing off the regret which had come too late, he recalled her saying that if she could be granted a wish, then she would like to see more of the world. And, such a wish was so like her. She wanted adventure. It was just another thing to love about her. He told her it would be done, and so he would do it.

He went to the balcony door now realizing he was freezing.

A hinge squeaked open into a dark room, and Darcy was greeted with a shriek which reminded him of Mrs. Bennet. He laughed, "Elizabeth, it is only me."

"I thought you had returned to your room." She lit a candle, and he was mesmerized by her buried in the bed covers as she sat up with her gossamer night rail hanging off one shoulder. He tamped down the desire.

"No, no, I wished to give you privacy as you prepared for bed, and then I became lost to my thoughts while looking out into the night."

"You must be freezing. Here take the counterpane, let me stoke the fire."

He heard the kindness in her voice again and wondered how long it had been since he thought it sincere. "No, stay there and leave the bed clothes. I will take care of the fire." Fitzwilliam set about his task and warmed his hands. "Elizabeth, I meant to discuss this with you in the morning, but since we are both awake, I shall tell you now unless you wish to return to your sleep."

"In truth, I was just lying here. I suspect dawn is not far off, and truly I do not think I will find sleep."

"I wish you would. You will need it. We are leaving in the afternoon."

"Pardon me?"

"I have some business that I have been quite remiss in attending. I need to go to our estate in Scotland. Travel is not ideal in January, but I have done it before. On the way there and back, I shall need to make stops at a few additional properties."

"And, you just expect me to pack my trunks in the next few hours? This is quite sudden is it not? And, just how many properties exactly do you own and wish to stop at? I know of Pemberley, but Scotland? And, Georgianna, what of her? She has been wishing for your company for months now. Are you completely serious? I did not think you so impulsive, but I suppose I should know better now."

He tried to calm himself and hide his disappointment. He was sure she would be excited at the prospect. He must learn to not assuming her feelings.

Something small and not too sharp hit him as his head was bowed in his hands.

A hairpin.

"Sir, I do recall a conversation at Netherfield one when it was determined that between you and Jane's husband, it was not _you_ who could be off in five minutes."

Her laughter was infectious and instantly cheered. "Clearly, you misjudged me, my dear." He cast her hair pin back to her. "Well, if tomorrow is too soon and you cannot be so impulsive, I suppose we could delay. Or, if you do not wish to accompany me, I understand. And, Georgie will be fine here for a few more months. You may stay with her if you like." Had he dared raise his own hopes too much?

"Months?" She was no longer laughing, nor smiling.

"Yes, if I am to go to Scotland, I should make the journey to as many properties as possible along the way. There is an estate, not a day south of Liverpool, near the coast which requires a few days of my time. We, if you wish to come with me that is, would board a ship at Liverpool and enter Scotland up the River Clyde. The carriage journey up to Skye would be arduous, but the scenery even in January makes it worth it. I imagine I will need a month complete at the castle in Skye since it has been years since I have been there. Then, I imagine we could return to England by either ship or carriage depending on what other business comes to pass. I would like to at least stop at a lodge near Winander if not then cross the north into York to visit there a couple days before returning here to retrieve Georgie. My hope then is we can retire to Pemberley for the summer."

Elizabeth stared at him with an open mouth. She closed it before it fell open again. "Fitzwilliam, just how many properties do you own?"

He was feeling warmer at his place by the fire or perhaps it was just from talking with her in such an intimate setting, and her dismay at him being a man of extensive property was almost amusing. He certainly had not married someone after his coffers. It did not hurt how he adored the way she sat up in bed with the pillows spaced around her, her doe eyes opened wide, mouth slack. He gave her a smirk. "If you do not wish to resemble a fish, you should close your mouth. But, do you care to guess? And, we are married. You own them as well."

She could not refrain from throwing a pillow at his head. She supposed he may need one anyhow. "Married women do not own property, and no, I will not guess. Answer my question, and do not call me a fish. You do not even like fish."

"You are almost correct. I do not enjoy them at my table, but I do enjoy the sport of pulling them from my lake. However, my preference for fish withstanding, I do believe the vow I took indicated that I bestowed all my worldly goods to you upon our marriage… as we had discussed previously. I take it you never reviewed the settlement, otherwise, you would be enlightened in this matter."

He saw Elizabeth stammer for a response. "Mrs. Darcy, you really should take care to read it, you know, being the owner to a good deal amount of land. For who else shall run it all if you ever find my dueling pistols and challenge me? But, to answer your question, milady, _we_ have two and twenty properties through England, Scotland, and Ireland. Seven of them are considerable estates while Pemberley is the largest and truly home. The rest are homes, lodges, or cottages scattered about. I also have interests in the West Indies and India itself. Someday, we may visit those places together if England ever finds peace."

Her mouth was still gaping, and it was all he could do not to crawl across the bed and close it for her. He held himself tight to his place and waited for her to say something, anything.

"Well… I suppose as dueling is illegal, and I would prefer to shoot you in your sleep anyhow for not at least notifying me to just what I married into – over twenty properties, really? Come, I can hardly credit it. Visiting India though would be remarkable. Truly, you would make such a journey?"

"Yes, I think seeing India would be rather exciting. Something to see rather than just read of – and of reading, I did provide settlement papers which you have ignored. My financial dealings are all laid out there. Please do me the courtesy. But, what of Scotland? Should it suffice as we cannot just pick up our things and sail to India?"

Elizabeth laid back on the bed staring over to the vast world outside the window. It sounded as if his business would take months, and she had never traveled extensively. Could they spend so much time together without coming to blows? If each day were like the night, then she would look forward to it. "Sir, just how beautiful can Scotland be in the dead of winter?"

"The view from the tower in the castle is like nothing you have ever seen no matter the weather, I am sure."

"And, Georgie cannot accompany us? I hate to abandon here when I am just coming to know her. She adores you."

"No, I am afraid not. At times the travel will be strenuous, and I do not think she has your sturdiness for traipsing should a carriage wheel break nor your fearlessness should we be beset by highwaymen? But, if you think Miss Harris is up to it, then I would like both her and Mr. Johnson to attend us. And, we'll have Smith, our driver, and a few of the young men he selects to attend us."

"Highwaymen, truly?"

"I hope not, but it has happened before. They only want a little coin to be on their way. We are always prepared should the worst happen. Do not think of it. Should you like to come? What is a small chance of highwaymen to taking a stroll on a beach, sailing on a ship, or scurrying up a mountain?"

"You now sound as if you actually wish me to come by tempting me so." Elizabeth blushed not wishing him to beg her, but she wondered if he really was insistent for her company.

"I only wish to not leave you to the machinations of my unforgivable family. And, it is only right you see what is now yours."

"And your pressing business?"

"It will consume much of my time, but I suspect you will carry your load. You spoke of helping your mother and father with Longbourn. There will also be time for leisure; you can walk and explore until you are exhausted and content."

Elizabeth thought over what he offered – sights unseen, time on a ship, seeing the sea, climbing a mountain perhaps? He was also suggesting she assist him in his business as a partner of sorts. Were these not some of the things she had always wish for? And, he was not commanding her. An excitement stole over her. "I think I will go with you." Yes, she would be thrilled to go with him.

Contentment stole over Fitzwilliam as he gazed into the flames which had grown higher and warmed him through to his insides. It was a start. She would come with him, and he would not rest until she chose him.

"Very well, then you should sleep."

"And you, are you not going to sleep, or do you intend to sit there at my hearth until dawn?" Elizabeth wondered if he would now return to his room, and she surprisingly knew herself to wish he would not.

"I will rest in the chair. Since it will only be a few hours, I suppose we should allow my aunt to think the worst."

A heat stole down Elizabeth's body at the thought of exactly what he was referring to. "Here, there is a rug at the end of the bed. Please take it." She looked to the chair and thought it seemed uncomfortable for slumber.

Should she offer him a place in her bed?

The warm feeling in her stomach told her such an offer might prove dangerous to her sensibilities. As much as part of her wished for him to come to her, she would not offer herself without an understanding. But, she had hope.

He moved to take the rug as she blew out the candle on her bedside table. A few minutes later, into the silence, she asked, "Did really just refer to my sturdiness a moment ago? What woman wishes her husband to refer to her sturdiness?"

Fitzwilliam laughed from across the room and patted his breast pocket which held her evening glove. "It is a compliment of the highest order, my dear Elizabeth. Now close your eyes and rest – you shall need your sturdiness. Our journey shall not be so easy, but I do hope it will be well worth the effort."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for readying. And, thanks for the reviews and most especially the PMs!

This chaper has been written for a while (though I just finally proofread it; proofread does not equal editing), and I have been trying so hard to finally get here! Seriously, death by tens of thousands of words.

As far as chapters go, whatever I said last time + 1 or 2 to make up for the time at Matlock taking more chapters than I planned. I hope the rest will be the 5K word variety.

Here are some specific answers to some questions:

Darcebeth…such good questions… and I won't answer them all. But, yes… the prologue is yet to come and I still maintain the wedding night was the lowest point. But, the term 'lowest' is relative; it does not stand to reason there are no other low points. But, we are certainly going north. As far as if she loves him… well, I hope it is more obvious now.

The Reader… His family plays their role and still has some action coming up in later chapters, but I've really tried to keep the main effectors of D&E's relationship mostly themselves and their actions.

MissPhryneFish… you are correct. Moonlight Sonata! Though it was called that until much later, but it was popular at the time.

Guest… about the coherency of names. Thank you for the feedback! I get stuck trying not to sound to repetitive when there are so many options, and I have been wondering how this was received, I'll take your suggestion into account as I revise. Much appreciated.


	35. Chapter 35

**Recap:** Our couple just attended a Masquerade ball where they ignored everyone and propriety and only could make googly-eyes at one another. The time at Somerdale (the Matlock seat) saw Darcy  & Elizabeth mostly in their respective states of self-preservation. Lady Matlock and Richard had words with their wayward nephew/cousin, and Darcy's response was to carry his wife off like a barbarian (which secretly thrilled his lady), feel immediately guilty, and then chastise himself until he saw the light in realizing he still very much wants to win her good opinion.

He approaches her about taking a little trip, and they were fairly amiable about the whole thing. One note… Darcy decides he is going to be the gentleman he thought he perhaps had not been (by way of suppressing his passion as to not incite her innate nature which he begins to think she has no control over), and when they return from their escapades, he plans to give her a choice on how to proceed in their marriage. And, now… We set our scene on the morning of their departure.

PS – I agree with Lady Matlock in that they are both dolts. (See below.)

* * *

Shortly before the day dawned, a young chambermaid, who had been well cared for by her betters since her birth on the estate, stood before a heavy door wondering what sight might greet her just beyond.

Her head full of the stories the housekeeper would read to all the younger maids while sitting around the kitchen table late at night, the maid, Susanna, wished her mistress's kindly new niece would fall into the hero's embrace. She did not like to spy, but she was assured she was not doing anything improper if she did not gossip to the staff and only recounted the facts in privacy to her Ladyship, and so, she did not feel guilty in longing to report a sight she might actually blush to see – perhaps a gentleman gently holding his young wife in the arms of a deep sleep – fully covered, of course. Her heart fluttered at the thought of it, and it gave her hope that perhaps someday she may be so blessed. After all, there was a new undergardener who had recently spoken to her, with bright eyes and a shy smile, and it was all she could do to not think of him. Her heart released an ardent sighed. She pushed the door open.

The fire was nothing but embers swirling gently from the draft pushing down the chimney, and indeed, there was a handsome man in the room. Disappointingly, the hero was misplaced in a chair and leaning his head along the wing while staring yearningly after his beautiful, sleeping wife.

This time her sigh matched the longing in the great man's face. It was terribly tender even if he did not hold his wife in his arms. Progress, it seemed, came in small doses. She hoped her mistress would see it the same way.

His trance was not affected until she was almost upon the hearth, ready to boldly go about her business while ignoring the flutters in her belly. Whether they were from her own romantic notions or guilt made from an intruding upon a personal scene, she could not be certain.

The man's deep intake of air startled her into stillness as she attempted to keep her gaze on the fire not daring again to look again upon the mistress's nephew. She was well aware of her place in the household, but she also knew the expectations of a full report.

Her obedience overwhelmed her training and she could not help herself as her survey shifted. His eyes were dark and weary, his cheeks ruddy, and his evening shirt was still nicely tucked into the thick fabric of his kilt. Standing with an abruptness which gave her a fright, Mr. Darcy inclined his head and left the room after muttering a quiet, "good morning."

* * *

He knew what Georgianna was about to ask, and how he hated to deny her. Keenly had their distance been felt over the past several months. However, it was for the security of her happiness and the protection of her heart's remaining innocence she must stay in the care of their family. His marriage was too much of a precarious state to consider his young sister attending him and Elizabeth into Scotland. Richard would guard over her, and the remaining Fitzwilliams would keep Georgie close and happy while he took Elizabeth away to attempt, what he now considered, in the light of day as perhaps the impossible.

He reached out to further disturb the curls which had untamed themselves from last night's arrangement. He much preferred his sister as he saw her this morning – white, ruffled nightgown which came high up her neck, golden curls askew over her shoulders which reminded him of how she looked as a young girl, and plump, cherubic cheeks flushed over with youthful cheer.

She had looked almost full-grown the night before in her white silk gown, feathered wings, and feathered mask. He recalled the feelings of losing his mind as a deep terror rooted within when Georgiana stole away admiration from many of the younger men in attendance; their blasted masks did not hide the appreciation he saw in their greedy, licentious eyes. He wished to escort his darling girl all the way to her chambers at Pemberley and lock her there until she was thirty. Richard had no right to allow her to participate in even one dance before she was presented and he deemed her _out_ ; his cousin and Georgie's young dance partner were both fortunate Elizabeth had restrained him from doing something entirely regrettable… like causing a scene… or committing fratricide.

"Oh, Fitzwilliam, may I come with you on your trip?" Georgiana's smile was small but hopeful.

"Sweetling, you know very well you may not come on our journey. But, it does not allow that Elizabeth and I would not be glad of your company if things could be different. We both shall miss you so very much. However, my dear sister, you have studies to complete and masters to see. Your education is of great importance to me. Aunt Ellen, Ruth, and Mrs. Annesley shall be with you. You will not be lonely, and I will ever be your faithful correspondent."

"I do understand, and I shall miss you both very much." Her smile gave way, and she grew pensive before deciding to continue onward. "But, I suppose it is only right that things should change since you are married. I cannot always be with you… not that I always had been anyway I suppose." She squeezed her eyes shut as she realized she had said the last aloud.

If he had thought his sister capable in the art of exploiting his sympathy for her own gain, he would have called her a master for inducing his pity just then. He gently tapped her cheek so she would look again at him. "May I enquire further as to your meaning?"

"Oh, forgive me. I do not mean to give complaint – you have always set aside time for me most generously, and there can be no one happier than me to see you have found someone who loves you as much as Elizabeth does." It was his turn to screw his eyes closed. Years of practice at mastering his feelings meant he just as quickly opened them before his sister could observe the ache within at her suppositions. He was equal to listening to her again. "… And, she does, Brother – I can see it in the way she looks at you and speaks of you to me. You have given me such an example to aspire to marriage. It really proves my own folly…"

"No, no, do not even think of it." Fitzwilliam, his chest heavy for not only himself now, gathered his sister in his arms before she could shed any tears. He had not seen her cry once since he had arrived at Somerdale; he would not allow it now. "Georgie," he raised her chin and brushed a fatherly kiss to her forehead, "my dear, you are still full young. You have learned from your trial – count it as a lesson and nothing more. It is forgiven and forgotten. I only now wish it to be put out of your heart. But, you are correct in that some things do change as we get older. I am now married… to a wonderful lady, I care for very much. And, just as when you are old and grey, and after I unlock you from Pemberley's attics to deem you finally ready for marriage in your dotage, you will leave me, and I will be the one to have to cope."

Georgie pulled away from him. "Brother, Aunt would chastise you for speaking such a threat! You know she is adamant I am out next season. But, please be reassured I do understand I cannot always be with you. I have just enjoyed spending time with her so much. I finally feel as if I have a real sister."

An unsuspecting wistfulness settled upon him as a sweet image arose in his mind – two women – most dear to him – heads bent together, clearly sharing confidences. "Georgie… well… as much as I delight in observing the pair of you becoming thick as thieves, I am not quite ready to fully share her yet… even with you." He said it with an attempt at levity, but it came out quietly. His cheeks warmed at his sister's sly smirk. He must really give her more credit. "Soon, sweet, I give my word, after we return from Scotland, I will collect you from your aunt and we shall all retire home for a long and leisurely summer. Would you like that?"

"I can think of nothing I might like better. You go away on this impromptu wedding trip of yours, and your regular letters will suffice until we can all go home. I do hope Lizzy will love Pemberley as much as we do."

"I am sure she will." He looked down at the innocent hands which so graciously grasped his as he appealed to Providence for his words to be true.

* * *

Several hours later in the mid-day sun, the Earl and Countess of Matlock watched from the drive of their family seat as several carriages faded into a surprisingly blue sky. It was the color of a spring day, not a cold afternoon in early January.

"Well, I am sure our guests had a lovely time as they always do – all to your credit, my dear, but I am not sure what to think of our dear boy departing with the others. Perhaps you should have allowed me to speak some sense into him. Men know about these things, Ellen. And, I do wish he would not have run off with her so. She is quite charming and perfect for him, but he is so blind, he cannot see an easy path. They still needed us, I dare say. I should have been forthright and told him to stop behaving like such a dolt."

The wife leaned over to kiss the cheek of her husband who had been her confidant for well past thirty years. "Dearest, I think it best they are gone away. Come now, pressing business in Scotland? Surely he knows we are not so foolish as to actually believe him. Other than marrying her, when has he ever been so impetuous as his leave-taking today?" She raised her brows as if to prove her point before continuing. "Yes, despite circumstances, I agree Elizabeth is a wonderful match for him. Fitzwilliam has always been exceedingly oblivious when it comes to the superior sex, so I dare say he is fortunate in his choice, if not in his execution. But, since we do not know the cause of their discord, how else could we offer our assistance other than calling out our nephew's foolish pride? There is nothing else to say when neither will hint as to what has come between them. But, I have faith that when he is challenged – and he has indeed been challenged by more than just I – he never backs down and fights like the devil to prevail. He is a simpleton in this instance perhaps, but he is stubborn, unmoving, and has a will of iron. It could work well in their favor if he is inclined to woo his wife. If he has not made peace in his marriage before they return, and I have no doubt making peace is his purpose in leaving – for his character requires it, then they will find all the guest rooms unavailable except one when they return to collect Georgie. I shall lock them in together and dispose of the key until she is sure she carries his heir. We can feed them supper through a crack in the door as if we were their gaolers. We shall even put them in the tower."

The elder Fitzwilliam indicated his amusement with his wife's suggestion. "You, devilish woman, are a horrible schemer, but I think the tower is a bit much." He turned seriously to her, "Ellen, and what if they never clear their differences? Annie will berate the moment I take my last breath if I let her son remain unhappy for so long."

"Oh, do not fret, Henry," she patted his arm. "You have many more years of breathing, so stop being dramatic. They will find their joy – it is there, lurking. Their connection to one another cannot be denied by anyone who has witnessed them together. For by heaven, they scandalized half of my guests last night, not to mention myself; our nephew is no player on a stage. He is utterly besotted and taken in love if ever a young man was. She is equally affected... and I too think "blind", as you call it. They are both dolts." The Countess could only laugh at the follies of the young, senseless lovers. She was rather thankful she had long grown out of such silly madness many, many years previous… though as she snuck a sidelong glance at the man who once had glossy jet hair, the strength of a god, and the mouth of a rake, she recalled just how exciting the course to perfect, domestic bliss had been.

"You know, husband, I expected nothing less than Fitzwilliam's trunks packed prior to this morning's breakfast after I questioned his marriage yesterday. He has never fully appreciated our interference, but I hope he will come around to see it as only us wanting the best for him." She curled her arm around her husband's and pulled him close. "It is rather unfortunate Susanna only found the boy in the chair across from his wife's bed this morning, but she said he was staring at her in the sweetest of ways as she slept."

The Earl brought them up short and cast his wife a dubious glance.

She answered, "Oh very well, Susanna is just an innocent… I am sure his look was not exactly _sweet_ – he does have the blood of a Fitzwilliam man after all – no matter how much he has the oblivious mind his father once had – and the lot of you Fitzwilliam men look after your women as hungry bears. Henry, you saw him embrace her last night. You left before he brought her up the staircase, but he was quite the peacock about it all. Elizabeth seemed quite upset at his savagery at first, but I think under her righteous anger and his bold actions, they very much enjoyed making a spectacle of the other. I am pleased with myself for now, even if he was not found in her bed this morning, and you should be pleased with me as well. Come, let us have faith in them both as they find their way, and let us pray for their safety."

"Darling, they will not find their way until someone knocks them both upon their young, foolish heads, but I always put my faith in _you_ , and that is enough."

* * *

Elizabeth sat in the carriage across from her husband doing her best to not look in his direction. So busy with their leave-taking and packing, they had not a chance to speak since the night before when she had finally succumbed to closing her eyes. Her husband had been only feet away from her bed as she drifted into her dream-state – she had finally slept in peace since the first night of their marriage. In the dark of the room, he spoke so easily with her, in a way he had not in weeks.

Even twelve hours later, her breath still caught when she imagined the way his hands fell down her back as he had assisted her with her dress and stays. _That_ she was sure had not been a performance for anyone's benefit as his earlier actions had been under the mistletoe. The tremble of his fingertips through the velvet of her gown still danced upon her skin. It brought a desire even more fierce than she had previously known with him in any embrace. Thankfully, she was master of herself once again, upon his return from the balcony, safely tucked away in her bed covers.

Now, as the sun streamed through the small windows, her husband's hands, which were clinched together over a knee which bounced in a hardly perceptible way, were all she could think upon. His person was much too close for comfort of hers even as he occupied the opposite corner of their conveyance, as far away as was possible. There just was not enough purchase. She could look nowhere along the well-lacquered and closed-in walls without seeing him in the margin of her view.

Ten minutes of uncomfortable shifting in a very comfortable seat, and beginning to wish to ring a peal over his head for being so handsome and distracting, his words sliced through the stifling air.

"Buxton is only some twenty miles, but we shall not arrive until nightfall. I am afraid with our late start, we can go no further today." He paused and his hands released each other to shake out his cuffs. He began again. "I hope you do not mind not taking the more southerly route into Wales, but I prefer the inns on the more direct route. And, of course, the Peaks provide nice scenery for the beginning of our journey… Though I have seen them countless times…as oft as old friends… Well, Pemberley is practically within the Peaks… It is not too late to take the Southerly route if you prefer... It is rather more… Or rather less… Bumpy… To avoid the incline if you wish…"

Elizabeth imagined her now bewildered stare was quite rude, but she could not recall the man before her ever babbling. He was clearly as uncomfortable as she had just been – though for probably many different reasons, she supposed. As if to prove the veracity of her thoughts and despite the many words he uttered to her just now, he turned away and took up occupation with something outside his window.

Her earlier discomfort abating in the face of his unease and contemplating silence as an easier path to suffer, she changed the direction of her mind when she saw his white knuckles. He had spoken with such felicity at particular times the night before, so contrary to his current coiled way. She took pity and spoke her appreciation of his solicitation in hopes to draw out the elusive version of the man who sat across her in her room in the dark of night.

"Sir, thank you for wishing to consider my opinion. It is most generous. But, I would not know whether the southerly or the direct route was to my preference. Other than a visit to my relations in London and a trip to Kent I do not truly recall, due to my very young age at the time, I have not traveled prior to our marriage. I completely put my trust in your experiences concerning the manner of our travel."

When Fitzwilliam looked to her, she tried for an easy smile, and she felt victorious when he reached again for his cuff only to quickly let it alone and smooth his hands gently over the squabs. Though glad she was the tension seemed to leave his hands, she felt it was too much to observe his absent-minded caress of the upholstery. She focused on his face hoping he would continue their conversation. He was first to look away and then settled further into his seat, mercifully stilling his hands but leaving them relaxed in place.

"Elizabeth?"

"Sir?"

His hand tightened once more, and Elizabeth was not sure where she erred until he spoke. "Would you please not revert to referring to me always as _sir_?"

"Of course. I shall try." She did not mean to offend nor did she consciously aim to address him so formally. She would be more careful.

A few more minutes were spent in silent contemplation, at least on her part, wondering how to achieve their ease of conversation from not even twelve hours previous. It seemed things between them were much more delicate in the light of day.

"Elizabeth?" He tried again, giving her a tight smile.

"Fitzwilliam?" Wishing to meet halfway in their efforts, but she could not help her brow raising in question to him. _Is his Christian name on my lips more to his liking?_ She could not tell as his smile was still rigid and he resumed bothering his sleeve.

She must stop worrying over _his_ _worrying_.

"I should like to apologize."

"Pardon?" Whatever she was expecting, it was not that.

"My apologies. Will you accept them?"

She was all astonishment. "If you would perhaps clarify, I am sure I would be glad to accept any apology you deemed to make."

"My behavior. Last night. The many nights and days previous. I am not sure where I should begin." He hesitated and she could hear his breath quicken. "Netherfield?"

 _Oh, dear_. Her heart sped up with a furious force. She was not sure she was prepared for such a conversation. She thought it not possible for the carriage walls to draw closer upon her, but they did.

If anyone had apologies to offer, she was surely in his debt tenfold. But, every single time she hinted at some kind of reconciliation, she said or did the wrong thing and was soundly rebuffed for it. Her heart beat wildly at the chance to say what she had tried to say several times before. But, the recollection of his cold eyes the day after their wedding returned to feed the fears deeply recessed within. Inexplicably, she thought of the night before he left with the family hunting party, swaying in his arms in the music room – just the two of them alone and being rejected, wholly misunderstood as she tried to cut a path to allay her apologies.

Her wit could no longer be counted upon. Why, oh why, had she not stayed at Somerdale? Could they not even remove themselves from the county before embarking on another painful conversation? This was worse than the maddening attraction she had been trying to dispose of since leaving Somerdale behind hardly an hour previous.

"Elizabeth?" He tentatively reached a hand across to hers, almost finding it before she shifted, adrift in her anxiety. She was too late to notice his goodwill before he pulled his desperately wanted comfort back. He was kind enough to continue his words quietly and not so expressively as to enhance her disquiet. He was gentle, and the passion which was bottled up in his hands and his quest for apologies seemed to dissipate as quickly as it had crested. "You see, Elizabeth, our journey will be of several months duration, and we shall be confined with only one another for company much of that time. I would wish it not be uncomfortable for either of us."

Her mind righted a bit when she looked up to see his face neutral, so practical. If he could be so after everything, then so would she. Tumult going out with the tide of fear, she said, "Of course, you are correct."

"Do you think… do you think it remotely possible for us to attempt friendship for the next several months… or, perhaps… We do not _always_ antagonize and argue, and I shall endeavor to be a gentleman. I know I have not always been these several weeks. I promise to not impose on you as last night. My family will not be here to force your hand or your behavior… and neither will I attempt to do so. I give you my word, on my honor. You shall not have to play false for anyone."

Elizabeth could not look at her husband. His voice was quiet and kind. Though she appreciated the steady, uninflected timbre of his voice and the gentleness of his intentions, his words were not precisely what she had hoped for. When had she not acted sincerely in her affections when the meager chance to give them was presented? Surely he could not think such a thing!

Of course, there were times she had to hide her hurt from his relations and even her own when she chose to correspond with them. But, that all was an altogether different thing from what his words suggested. Then again, perhaps he would not wish to hear how excited and grateful she felt the few times he found an excuse to speak solely to her, waltz her in circles, tumble her in the snow as he did on Christmas, or kiss her mouth. Oh, that she wished she could say this to him, but what had she truly wished to _hear_ from him? That her foolish behavior was forgotten? That the admiration he once held for her was still there? That with impassioned speech he would demand her love, take it forcefully if needed, now she was willing to give it?

No, those were selfish thoughts.

Could his current hopes for friendship be in any way sufficient?

This time his hand found hers and gave a small squeeze before letting go. "Elizabeth, what say you?"

She would be a fool to wish for those things she no longer had a right to aspire to; nevertheless, she would be the greatest fool to not take anything he offered. His still vague apology over something in which she held the greater share of blame, coupled with her lack of understanding, left her searching for the appropriate response; but she tried to meet his offering. "Please say no more, Fitzwilliam, and consider the past weeks forgotten. I look forward to wherever it is we are off to, and I will endeavor to be a pleasant companion to you. Last night, excepting a few events, showed we have the capacity to be great friends. As you promise to be a gentleman, I promise to keep my provocations to a minimum."

Just as she was to return his gesture and offer her hand now to him in peace, her attention was caught by the picture framed from the carriage window. They had rounded a curve carved into the side of the mountainside, and she had the feeling of riding the sun-beams which scattered down upon a lovely valley below. She was utterly insensible of the steep slope just below the road.

All of her apprehensions plunged right off the edge along with the rocks the carriage wheels kicked up. "Oh, look! What a charming prospect!" She was too enchanted to be self-aware in that moment and so missed an expression which might have given expectations to her selfish hopes.

"Yes, what a charming prospect, indeed."

* * *

Darkness had covered the splendid view of the Peaks as they rolled into the town of Buxton. Darcy was more than ready to leave the confines of the carriage, but he still wished for more time, completely alone, and to better explain himself thinking his attempted apology earlier in the day fell short of his intentions.

Though her eyes considerably brightened as they left off their weighty conversation and climbed in elevation towards their first destination high upon the Peaks, she had remained quiet most of their path thus far. Now, they had almost gained the required twenty miles, and he reminded himself it was only the first day of a passage which would take the better part of one hundred… or more if his wife's enthusiasm for the scenery did not wane in the coming days, which, come to think, would be satisfactory by him.

He took joy when she could not resist her animation as they passed places of interest to the common traveler – places he had seen many a time. However, seeing old locations through her new perspective was enlightening for him. That she loved geography was exceedingly clear to him now. If any promising vista happened upon their way, she would exclaim and then politely ask to stretch her legs, only to wander away from the carriage. Then she would entice him along with her questions of the area which he faithfully answered. This was mostly the extent of their conversations, but somehow, they had gone from unbearable tension to finding some sense of comfortable companionship – _and all in one afternoon!_

He chuckled discreetly to himself in the dark wondering what she would do with herself at the sights in Wales or Skye. _Do they make leading strings for one's wife?_

She pushed at his boot from across the way while she attempted to hide a yawn. "May I ask what is so amusing? Georgiana and Richard both warned me you either became exceedingly irritable or restless after a day's journey, which I reminded them I had already experienced for myself, but they did not say anything about you coming down with a fit of the titters."

"It was only a thought which crossed my mind… and, I do not titter, Elizabeth. Further, when have I been cross or restless in a carriage in your presence?"

"Ah, think nothing of it." Darcy was unaware of the direction of his wife's thoughts. Her mind went to the second day of their journey to Somerdale from London in which his legs ceased to remain still and the only communication he had with her was the muttering under his breath. He was spared the reminder. "Of course you do not titter, Fitzwilliam." He thought he heard her utter something before she continued, "But, care to share what amuses you so?"

He did not enjoy the patronization in her voice, but then a torch, the first one indicating they were upon the town, cast a light into the carriage to reveal her teasing smile. "Well, I do not presume to think you will find my thought so diverting, so I will be wise and keep it to myself." He gave a triumphant smirk in return wishing she could see it in the dark of the carriage. "Here, look… up ahead to the grouping of those three torches on the right in the distance. We shall stop there for the night. Mr. Johnson and the rest surely arrived several hours earlier if they did not make so many stops. He should have all arranged, and I think you shall like this inn. The food is more than adequate, and it has some interesting history."

In the shadows, increasing by way of more torchlight and the evening activity of the town outside the carriage window, he could make out Elizabeth smoothing her hair and searching for her bonnet. "And, the history? Let me hazard a guess: a king took up residence here years ago and now it remains haunted by His Majesty's spirit? That would be a satisfactory tale to write to my sisters and parents, indeed."

The mischief in her voice gave him pleasure, and he tried to meet her with serious articulation as he leaned across the aisle to join in conspiracy. "Such a close supposition, milady. But, 'tis a queen's. Mary Queen of Scots was kept here for many summers. As to whether she haunts the rooms, I have never seen any evidence myself. Mayhap we can compare our observations of any unusual happenings over breakfast tomorrow?"

"Seems promising –"

The carriage door opened, neither noticing the wheels had stopped and steps were let down. Both Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam pulled away, gathered their personal items, and left the carriage for a private dining-parlour and then separate accommodations.

Fitzwilliam walked Elizabeth to her door and relinquished her into the care of Miss Harris. He desperately wished to follow her into her room, where perhaps they would hide together under the coverlets and perform whatever ritual acts might be required to ward off unpleasant spirits. _Ah, patience. Be a gentleman – this is a beginning. She cannot always be not immune to what we share._

Unfortunately, when they rejoined the next morning to share a meal, neither could report any haunting in their chambers other than their own scattered spirits. And, it would be many, many more breakfasts before either would acknowledge those to the other.

* * *

 **A/N:** Friends and Readers,

Thank you for your patience! I especially want to thank my dear, new beta reader. _Itsmilan_ was instrumental in making this chapter better. (If you see mistakes, they are mine.) She has been quite generous with her time and talents, and I appreciate her more than I can say. Also, if anyone is an annoyed and as disbelieving as I am about this story ever having a proper finish, she can verify it as she more or less knows this thing has a definite conclusion.

Again, THANK YOU _Itsmilan_!

If I have an excuse for my tardiness, it is that I recently broke my ankle. But, my next post shouldn't take as long as most of the next chapter is written.

Also, I am so grateful for your reviews! As always, they encourage me to get my butt to the computer and type away. Most of you are way too liberal with your praise (I have gone back to reread what I consider my first draft… I cringe). But, I thank you all the same.

Few specific notes…

K – thanks for your timely reviews. They seem to be posted when I'm not feeling worthy.

The Reader – your requested hints about Mr. J will be provided in the next chapter.

Regency1914 – I'm working to get on with the rest… I'm the slowest writer ever… and, I'm sorry about all this darn angst… we should do lunch soon (smiley)

Aereal – Yes, they were doing the Viennese waltz. Thanks for your feedback – I'll use to as I revise.

LovetoRead613 – thanks for your feedback on E's expression of feelings. This was helpful for me.

MissPhryneFisher – I see the wheels turning in your head…

The rest of you… I (heart) you! Please feel free to PM me if you have a specific question.


	36. Chapter 36

**Recap:** The last chapter saw them leaving Somerdale and off on a journey to Scotland via Wales and Liverpool. They had just stopped at Buxton for the first night on their trip when the last chapter ended.

* * *

Days later, out of the Peaks and under cover of a grey sky dotted with low, white clouds, Fitzwilliam was following his wife through a whipping wind and a herd of high mountain black sheep.

He called out to her to stop for who could know which of his neighbor's property they were trespassing upon, but the woman had paid him no mind to this point. He saved his breath and only hoped they would encounter no other on such a squally afternoon.

They were so close to Ffion, his estate near the Welsh coast, but Elizabeth, at her first sight through the carriage window of the highest peak she had heretofore seen, threw off her lap rug and grabbed his walking stick. With a thud to the roof of the carriage, she bounded from the door without a word. His stick was gently thrust back to his chest before she was wild and off. It was all he could do now to keep up in his chase to avoid the bleating sheep and their dung.

Another quarter mile found him bent over as the cold ravaged his chest. Wishing her to the devil, he gave one more call to his wife. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth Darcy! Halt, Madam!"

The woman either feigned deafness with the excuse of being too far from him, or rather and more likely blatantly disregarded him. He pressed forward, his trot becoming a run before he finally caught her around the waist nearly lifting her from the ground. "Good lord woman! Are you run mad? You cannot just leap from a moving carriage and trespass onto land which is not yours!"

He turned her briskly in his arms to convey his displeasure. It melted away like the surrounding snow would come spring.

Her breath expelled in little rushes of gaiety which tickled his frozen neck. Too soon, she removed her head from its nestled place to look beyond his shoulder at the splendor in the distance. The only splendor _he_ beheld was her red nose and cheeks strained in the best possible way. She had never looked so happy. He went adrift as she lost herself in the beauty which arose at her feet. Thusly, he had not even the sense to be thankful she had not perceived his earlier harsh tone.

If he was ever so bewitched to kiss this woman under the spell of a moment, it was now. But before he laid down his heart on such a gamble and pulled her even closer, his resolve transfigured through his conscience to something of better sense and restraint. For her sake alone, he would act the part of a gentleman, and at last, outright deny temptation. For himself, agony was already a friend. And, though her kiss would have been worth the pain, consideration won out. He upheld his vow to not impose. No longer would he misread her passions for life as being feelings for himself. What was he to snow-covered mountains?

She tugged at his sleeve, still poised at her waist, and turned her bright eyes upon him.

"Is not this just wonderful? I have never imagined a scene so picturesque. Even your Peaks in Derbyshire are nothing to it."

They stood together, insensible for their own reasons in the valley under the shadow of Carnedd Llewelyn and its high-hilled friends. Their tops and slopes were covered with a recent snowfall, and their bases were dotted with little black puffs of sheep. It was a frigid pastoral, but neither knew anything of the cold in the span of those few moments.

He held to her, so distracted he was by her loveliness and basked in her warmth. "Yes, quite wonderful." He wished to add that she did not have the contrast of watching a summer sunset fall over the Peaks in Derbyshire from the back terrace of Pemberley with a cool glass of lemonade in hand, but he now had a bud of hope it was a future possibility so long as she was allowing him to hold her like this, in this place. From where this bout of felicity had come, he was not sure but was ever grateful.

Their two days traveling from Buxton had been mostly quiet, but companionably so, and it was fraught with stops where their conversations would rise, and through it, they became just a trace more comfortable spending time with the other. She openly delighted at their travel, and he reservedly delighted at her. For his wife, wonders never ceased.

"Fitzwilliam, it is remarkable I have gone all my life without seeing this."

"It is remarkable you are so easily pleased." He gave her a sly smile to indicate he intended no offence.

She sauntered from her captivation to further assess his meaning still not entirely grasping that she was acting the wonderstruck hoyden her mother always affirmed she was. "Yes, I suppose you are correct in that I am easily pleased, but you are wrong – _that_ is actually rather _un-remarkable_." She offered a small laugh lest they become too serious. Her eyes were drawn away, and he watched her spirit soar again to the heights shrouding them. "Fitzwilliam, this… these mountains are…"

He touched the uncovered curl at her temple to gain her attention, "…these mountains are easily viewed from the windows of the manor house on our estate just a few miles hence. I venture you can enjoy the prospect by the fire with a cup of tea." It was more an offering than anything else, and he inclined to their equipage which was now waiting off into the distance.

Finally, she pulled away from him seeming to recall herself and proper behavior. "Yes, of course. What must you think of me? I was just so carried away by the sight. I daresay I thought I was going to climb this mountain at the glimpse of it. How far I ran! How absurd – I am not sure what overcame me so! Forgive me. I am sure you are cold and wishing to be at our destination."

"No, I am not so cold, and I am glad I caught you in time before you made an ill-advised ascent. Perhaps I shall have to blindfold you on the rest of our journey to keep you from injuring yourself the next time you decide to dash out of the carriage? What is next, shall you jump from the ship at the first sight of Scotland? You could not even allow Smith to completely stop the team just now. Have a care next time your fervor overcomes you lest I strap you to the seat." He meditated on that thought a touch too long when the weight of her wide-eyed gaze duly chastised him.

He cleared his throat and reverted to a more formal tone as he offered her escort, "Come, let us go back. While the estate is not so far off, these are not our lands, and we, my dear, are trespassing."

"Oh, surely the neighbors do not mind." She took his arm as they made their way back to the road.

"Elizabeth, you should check your boots before you enter the carriage and mind your steps."

Her eyes shifted from the glories of their surroundings to her side as she silently quizzed him, and he pointed to a small pile of something small and distinctly steaming in the snow.

"Very well, then."

He bit his lip to contain his smile as she sniffed her nose and held her chin proudly as they made their way back.

Ten minutes later, boots carefully inspected, they were seated on their respective benches warm again under their rugs. "Fitzwilliam, will you tell me what business has brought us to Wales?"

This brought him up short. His true purpose was her pleasure, and he was surprised it was so easily accomplished before they even settled in for the week.

He continued to hesitate as he recalled just why he owned an estate in this region of the kingdom. "Well, the black sheep you see out the window, the estate has two such herds. Their fleece and their meat bring some small income. But, the real purpose in holding the estate are mines, not ten miles from here, and I… _we_ have significant interests there. I have been thinking of mining some land near Pemberley with some partners, and this is a good model to replicate. I hope to learn more about the operations."

In truth, investigating the mine was a capital idea. The business he had at Whitlock's dinner in London before Christmas was centered on the possibility of mining either Pemberley or Somerdale lands. If his mind was not so distracted that particular night, he may have thought of coming to Wales earlier. Perhaps he would accomplish some business while seeing to his primary objective of wooing his wife. His efficient nature grabbed the idea quite prodigiously. "Elizabeth, what say you to taking a tour with me to the mines in the next several days while our travel out of Liverpool is arranged?" He saw she was clearly taken aback but for what reason he was not sure. Did he not mention they were to travel to Scotland by way of sea?

It seemed their travel was not what captured her attention so. She moved to the edge of her seat and fixed him with seriously enquiring attentions. "I cannot say I know the first thing about mining though I am all curiosity. Do you really mean to have me accompany you on your business?"

He settled himself back into the comfort of his seat giving her a smile and wishing by his attitude to lend credence it was nothing so magnanimous to include her in his concerns. She was his wife, and it was beyond time she learned more about his dealings. "I do not see why you should not join me. The mine conditions in the winter are not so strenuous as they are in summer, and we will not journey down into the slate pits. Of course, if you think it too much to bear witness to the breaking work, then, by all means, do not feel obligated."

"Well then, if it does not flout propriety and you do not mind my company, then I should like to see it." Smiling to herself, she settled back into her own seat to meet his satisfied gaze until her brows furrowed as she sat up again. "Are the workers treated well? I do not think I could bear to see it if they were not." She leveled her eyes at him seeming to dare to accuse him at one wrong word.

He fought the inclination to take umbrage – while he appreciated her compassion for the workers, he would appreciate a little faith from her. "Elizabeth, on my honor, I do not knowingly engage in any business where human life is not valued. There is not one who is not able-bodied and over the age of four and ten allowed in any mining operation I choose to fund."

She seemed relieved at his words, and while he was thankful he read her concerns enough to put them at rest, his slight chagrin persisted. A short time later, they arrived where they were to spend the week. Her smile and the squeeze of her hand as he handed her out of the carriage did much to restore his good humor.

* * *

A se'nnight had passed when Elizabeth found herself in a carriage once more and leaving what proved to be the most tranquil place she had ever had the pleasure to visit. The estate was superiorly posed in equal distance from an expansive group of high mountains and the ever-lolling sea. It did not matter if it snowed for two days and then was biting cold for the others. She thought the weather rather suited this place. The chilly air invigorated her when she walked the lower slopes, gazing upon the higher ones, only to turn her head and see a flat line of grey-blue in the distance.

She supposed if she must name a drawback in visiting the Welsh estate it was that snow precluded her from progressing to the mountain tops. There was a particular craggy cap which teased her mercilessly from outside the large picture windows in her chambers. The pinnacle was so close she thought if she could reach through the glass she could caress it with her fingers. But, alas, it was an illusion… yet still, she would linger in bed, arms wrapped around her middle while nestled under her coverlets, wondering what it might be like to ascend to such soaring heights of fancy.

Putting such silly thoughts to the side, she adjusted her view across the carriage to her husband. Not five miles down the road, and he was studying a ledger while making notes in another. Fitzwilliam had become more a puzzle since they had left Somerdale.

Gone was the man who distanced himself from her when not required to publically play the part of husband. Gone was the sometimes rogue he had acted to perpetuate the idea of impetuous lovers to explain a rash marriage. And, gone was the man who battled her in weighty, vague discussions of their relationship or rather lack thereof. Neither was he the man she had met in Hertfordshire before a kiss had changed the course of their lives. What remained was a surprisingly polite and staid version of the gentleman she had hitherto known as her husband – slightly aloof as usual, quietly amiable, and willing to attempt her company on a regular basis to see to some of her entertainment.

Without the usual tension to incite their passions, with no distraction of familial expectations, and no intentional embargo of the other's company, the relatively smaller estate of Ffion showed her husband's rather practical side; he was a productive sort of person to the likes of which she had not fully comprehended. Caroline Bingley had not even the full right of it when she commented so long ago on just how many letters of business Fitzwilliam might have to write, and Elizabeth gathered her husband did not seem to think the task odious whatsoever.

And so, all could not be perfectly comfortable with them, but Elizabeth was grateful in that they found a new kind of understanding during their quiet time together in Wales. They would usually breakfast together; he would escort her to some place of interest or another – those being her favorite times; and then, he would part from her to see to some affair until they shared an informal supper. After spending perhaps an hour in mutual company tending their separate pursuits – a book, a letter, a turn at the small instrument in the sitting room, he would wish her a 'pleasant evening' before taking himself off again.

Aside from the occasional exclamation induced by whatever wondrous sight was before her or some mild teasing more on her part than his, their conversations were mostly sedate and functional, never venturing back into the tempest sea of the specifics on their relationship or onto topics on which they knew they disagreed.

She recalled his request as they set out from Somerdale in which he wished them to act as friends on their journey as well as his promise to be a gentleman, and now she supposed she understood his reasoning. It was much easier, for the sake of travel and their daily life, that they forget all that came before and abide each other with some manner of calm respect. As much as she wished to have more personal discussions as to mend the meager beginnings of their marriage which had been irretrievably broken, she decided for now she would much rather have him in her company even if they were all politeness. If they could build upon their time together, perhaps they could begin again.

Elizabeth began to meditate on what exactly that future might require should she be so lucky to attain it. The memories of his hand upon her person or his lips upon hers crept in at the most inconvenient of times.

At some point later, she could not bear the mortification nor the pleasure any longer to look upon the man who quite discomposed her thoughts as he paid her no attention from across the aisle. As they crested a hill, she turned her head to the window and through it to the never-ceasing sea, letting her thoughts drift over the gentle waves, imagining their depths. So often lately she had been overcome with the fluttering of pleasure as she dwelled on her husband. She only hoped she was not on the way to becoming her mother, overtaken by spasms, trembling, and such beatings of her heart at the slightest provocations.

Eventually closing her eyes, she hoped the man across from her, staring at his ledgers, would only think her cheeks pink from the chill if he ever looked up. Better yet she hoped, he would not notice them at all.

* * *

Darcy slowly, and only just barely, lifted his eyes from a page of numbers which made no sense in his wife's presence. He watched several moments as her head slipped forward and backward against the cushion, her breathing visibly deep. Assured of her sleep, he finally allowed himself to openly look upon her and vowed his reactions kept under respectable order. He admired the delicate line of her jaw and her adorably turned-up nose. A curl had fallen loose from her bonnet, and he was enchanted as it had wrapped the porcelain of her neck.

From his place opposite her, he watched her flitting eyelashes as they caressed a perfectly rosy cheek. He had experienced her enough in the past to know the feel of her skin, and he was hard-pressed not to reach out and touch it now as she lay back in her seat. Her lips quirked up softly, and he could only imagine the satisfying images playing behind her closed eyes. He imagined her to be dreaming of dashing through a bank of snow or a skipping in a field of lavender. It would be just like her. As she lay in repose, he appreciated her face so full of youth and effervescence, and he was reminded of her innocence. As he admired her, he was also reminded, to a greater degree, of his own.

He had spent the past week testing his resolve to be the gentleman he swore to himself he would be. So far, he thought he had done well, but at times, he thought his forbearance in her company might be killing him a day at a time. He promised to not incite her passions for better or worse, but she did nothing to suppress his. Married at seven and twenty, patience was becoming not an astute contender – not that he supposed it was something which fell into the court of her responsibility to manage. His feelings were his own to control, and she could not help to be anything other than her appealing self, especially now as they were away from the expectations of others.

This last week of being settled together at Ffion was the most unparalleled seven days of his life he was sure. Just being in her sole company did much to soothe the troubles of the past two months. His forgiveness and his reinstated wish to have her heart were both a foregone conclusion. Though they did not travel down certain subjects, and he only had the pleasure of being so close to her when he escorted her on their planned outings on and around the estate, they had been at peace throughout it all. Each day was a little easier to stay by her side without feeling the pain he endured the first dark days of their marriage.

He had done as he set out to do by showing her the wonders of the Welsh landscape around the estate, and he had introduced her to its workings wishing her to know he saw her as an ally in their future. His estates required a knowledgeable mistress. Her education in this was taken seriously and much to her evident delight. If she applied herself half as much at Pemberley, then not only his future seemed grand and void of loneliness in carrying out his duty, but his legacy was bound to flourish as well.

He stilled himself at the thought of his _legacy_ and looked away from her as to not raise his hopes. He fully intended to give her a choice as to their future when they returned from Scotland, and he would not pin expectations on her so early in his campaign.

Shaking himself away from a success too distant, he recalled the present joys of their recent days instead. The slate mines were a fascination and a credit to the mechanics of her mind. The queries and ideas she posed at times even exceeded his own knowledge and ingenuity. When they walked through the rocky pastures to discuss and see the sheep kept there, she sought the herdsman out in an energetic interrogation.

He smiled to himself in gratification thinking of how when they encountered a lone male hogget who gave a slight charge in warning, she saw him as her protector, just as a husband should be thought of by his wife. He felt pride in shielding her as she jumped behind him and clutched at his coat. He still thought it humorous as she peered around him and warned off the offending beast in her best strident voice. He would laugh at that for years to come.

He had known no other like her. He could not imagine another woman of his acquaintance standing in the middle of a January field shouting at a sheep who was in her path and dared to cross her. She was everything formidable.

Closing his ledger books, for he no longer felt the need to hide behind them, he moved down on the bench where he could be closer. To clear himself the heat he felt flaring inside of his body, he leaned into the cool reprieve of the window. Catching a glimpse of the white trills over the expansive water in the distance as they traveled the coast, he looked back to Elizabeth and remembered how her eyes widened and glistened when they first walked down to the rocky shore on a day where the sun made a shy attempt at friendliness.

Skirts pulled to her ankles after checking at least thrice that there were none around, save him, to bear witness, she stepped close enough to dip an ungloved hand in the water. He was sure he had almost gone mad with feeling as she brought her wet hand to her lips for a taste until she spluttered at the brine and ran away from a short comber rolling in after her.

When she laughed at her own foolishness, he grasped his hands behind his back and bit hard down on his lip. Her joy could not have affected him less, but he did not wish to intrude. It was not entirely reasonable to think he could join her exploit without ruining her fun by licking the saltwater from her lips. But, he was content to observe. The sight of her so unrestrained gave him unbridled happiness; it was a sight much like now, her nestled into the comfort of her seat, surrounded by her covers, still smiling in the arms of serene rest.

He closed his own eyes for a moment to imagine her as his proper wife on the beach in the season of summer, not so wrapped in outerwear, and alone for miles. Would she take off her boots and step into the place at the water's edge where the rocks gave way to the sand?

If she did, and he was near – and not in danger of freezing – she might splash some water at him as if they lived without cares. Of course, he would certainly then retaliate and demand a kiss as atonement for her bad behavior. And, he would hold her in the sun – sans bonnet – and she would hold him back.

He meditated on that thought so comfortable in its assumed warmth. He pushed away any sense of foolishness he felt for letting his woolgathering get so far into the ridiculous. But what was he to do in a carriage with a beauty asleep within arm's length when he could not reach out to her?

Abruptly, the carriage jostled, and he jolted up looking to Elizabeth to assure she was well. Her head remained inclined just as it was, and his eyes locked into warm chocolate for just the breadth of a moment. The depths which stirred him so shockingly fell shut as if they had not been open at all, and her small smile, the one he thought she had found in her sleepy dreams, remained.

* * *

Elizabeth faced the edge of the city, giving great contemplation to all which was before her. Her husband indulged her curiosity with a visit down the main thoroughfare to the docks of Liverpool. It calmed her excitement to see vessels the likes of which she was to board the next day. Until this morning, she had only seen oils and drawings of the enormous seafaring monsters. Now before her, and as far as she could see up and down the River Mersey, the tall masts were beyond tally as they faded in and out of the hazy distance.

The waterfront smelled of salt just as it had in Wales, but now the air also swirled with the vestiges of international commerce - some surprisingly bearable combination of spice, sweat, and waste. _Trade_ , the likes of which Society looked down upon, was something Elizabeth could not fully comprehend until this moment.

The efficient movement of so many boats, their heavy crates of goods, and the milling about of her countrymen and foreigners alike – people who did not all look like her - was something truly remarkable to behold. The shouts over the din and the racketing of wood as it swayed in the constant lap of the water was a sound of industry which made Elizabeth think her once quiet and very English country life was like living in a small, protected bubble in a sea full of foam.

It seemed people and things ebbed and flowed through an incomprehensible sphere she now realized toiled in a way in which she had no grasp of understanding. How very big was the world, and how she did wish to learn more of it. It was impossible that only a fortnight ago she was in the wilds of Derbyshire celebrating the New Year with her new family – an Earl's family no less, and now she stood ten yards from a gateway to places and ports she could not entirely realize.

"What do you think, Elizabeth?"

His voice startled her, and she only just recalled he stood by her side looking into the limitless unknown.

Speaking more about her meditations rather than the rows of ships, she said, "I think it all quite extraordinary." Before she spoke again, she considered at length her husband whose attention was clearly upon her and not the great enterprise of what was before them. "And, Fitzwilliam, what do _you_ think?"

He deliberately shifted his gaze unseeingly away, seeming to look farther out than she could. "I agree, quite extraordinary." The forest of moving timber masts, sprouted as they were from the water, swayed in the breeze, hanging on his words.

"Yes, to think, Fitzwilliam, not so long ago we were in Matlock, and a fortnight before that we were in London. And now, we've been in Wales, and here we are in Liverpool with open channels beyond. I never imagined in all the world having seen so much in such a short time, and it has all come about with no warning. Not even two months previous would I have imagined standing here as I now am, with you. Has your life always been this exciting, this impulsive? Or, do you take it all in as inconceivable as do I?"

"Until very recently, my life has been somewhat staid. But, I have come to see we have quite different perspectives." Her husband did not elaborate as perhaps she hoped he might. She had meant to tease only a little but was afraid she had gotten it all wrong.

 _Confounding man_. She snuck a glance at her husband before he moved away, hat in hand. The breeze was skimming and rippling his hair.

 _Beautiful man_.

"Come," he said over his shoulder as his attention had been pulled to somewhere down the way. He stilled to wait on her smaller steps eventually placing her gloved hand atop his arm. "Look," he pointed across the quay, "to the packet which is directly there - this is the lady who shall take us to Scotland."

Elizabeth raised her brow to her husband. If she did not know better, she would think he was now quite enthusiastic under his stately exterior. There seemed to be a crinkling around his eyes which belied his even voice. "Sir, shall you make the proper introductions? She is intimidating to be sure, but I find myself eager for her acquaintance."

He placed his other hand over top of hers and squeezed as he looked down to her, feigning shock. "Madam, you intimidated? I never once thought it possible. But, as far as the introduction, I think the lady is already known to you."

"I promise you, I can be intimidated just as anyone. But, I own that my courage always rises, and do not pretend you do not know it well." She gave him a full smile and was pleased to see him return it. "You also are aware I would have no cause to be on intimate terms with any ship, let alone this one. I think you relented quite reluctantly actually to my request to come here this morning only on the basis you could not actually fathom that I have never seen a ship in reality, not even from afar."

"Very well. I cede you do not know this vessel. However, you well know the namesake. I do believe you may even have a connection by marriage." He inclined his head again to the ship.

She squinted her eyes to see the lacquered name along the stern. "Louisa! As in Mrs. Louisa Hurst? Are you suggesting the name is not a coincidence?"

Elizabeth thought Fitzwilliam seemed rather pleased with himself. "Indeed. It is Bingley's ship. Or, rather, it belongs to the merchant company Bingley's family started more than two generations previous. The fleet carries the names of the ladies in the family."

It was a wonder that her brother-by-marriage would have a fleet… of actual ships. She had never heard him or his sisters mention the source of his income. It was known or rather gossiped over in Meryton of an inheritance of around a hundred thousand pounds. But, that his family could count a shipping fortune to their name was beyond comprehension. She wondered if Jane knew. _Surely, she must_. _Her marriage is much different than mine. They probably now know every intimate detail of one another's lives_.

Elizabeth shrugged off the comparison determining not to be wistful. Instead, she resolved to keep her spirits up and could not contain mirth at her next thought. "I suppose it a very lucky thing the ship is not named for the other sister. Otherwise, I may find a watery grave should I become too close to the railing in the open sea."

He joined her in laughter. "You and me both."

"Oh, no! Surely not you! Miss Bingley would be very glad to find you a widower on your return from the north."

His mirth halted as he looked at her intently. "I cannot laugh at that. I dare not. If you are cast overboard, I may well as join you."

Elizabeth's heart arrested in her chest at the intensity of his eyes, and the hope was almost too much. Surely, he could not mean something so passionate as to say he could not live without her. Her breath returned and with it a forced laugh. "Surely a fate such as Caroline Bingley is not so evil as to warrant something so dramatic on your part as flinging yourself after me?" She gave him her most playful smile as she walked a bit away to see the ship from another vantage.

He followed her closely and came directly behind her speaking low and close. "I assure you, the fate you describe would be an insupportable torment I could not bear. It would not do."

Elizabeth could feel his warm breath along her cool neck, and she thought perhaps a fate without him might be just as unbearable.

They stood there for a few moments; the silence was thick between the small distance their bodies afforded until he moved again next to her and spoke with tolerable evenness. "Can you keep a confidence from your sister?"

The turn of the conversation was confusing, and she briefly wondered why he must ask. They were married. Her allegiance now lay with him, despite the circumstances. "Yes, of course, although now I am all inquisitiveness."

"When are you not?" A corner of his mouth raised, and the thought crossed her mind how easily she could push the smug man into the water given how close they stood to the elevated courses of masonry at the edge of the dock. She refused to rise to the bait of his impudent rhetoric and only barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

Her heart sped, and her momentary indignation passed them by when he again took her hand and gently placed it across his sleeve. He kept his own there atop hers, warming it quite nicely. "Charles does not speak of his business in polite company, and he is not so tied to the operation that he cannot carry on a life of leisure as he wishes. But, he is still very involved, and he has an excellent mind for managing his family's ventures. Your sister is a fortunate woman to be married to someone not only of great character but also one who is so astute in seeing to his interests. I have even invested not a paltry sum." Elizabeth was looking at him as he spoke and did not understand the questioning look he abruptly cut to her. "I take it you still have not reviewed your own settlement?"

Elizabeth felt a blush settle over her cheeks. What was with his insistence about her settlement? She really had no interest in how she benefited financially from their marriage, especially in light of how it had come about. She demurred and deflected with one of her own, "Is this the confidence I am not to share with Jane? That you are an investor in her husband's affairs?"

"No, that is not it at all." He shook his head and seemed a little less excited than he was before, but he carried on nevertheless. "I should think Mrs. Bingley is well aware by now as to her husband's business and all the important aspects concerning it. I digress. Charles has commissioned five new ships. It will take a few years before all are delivered as builders rightfully must give precedence to King and Country, but the biggest and fastest should be delivered within the year. It will be christened the _Jane Iris_ and enlisted into Bingley's line. Your new brother also intends the maiden voyage to be a kind of delayed, yet extensive, wedding tour to wherever it is your sister should like to go. It is meant to be a surprise, hence the request for confidence."

"How wonderful for Jane!" Elizabeth felt pure delight for her sister. "You may be assured I will not spoil such a grand gesture. How he must love her! Of all my sisters, she is the most deserving." Elizabeth fastened her lips lest the pleasure on her sister's behalf runneth over. Another pleasure settled on her – the feeling of his confidence, and she was more reverent in her tone. "I do vow I will not disclose this. I thank you for indulging me with such a secret. Your trust is not misplaced."

"Elizabeth, you do not need to assure me. You are my wife, how could I not trust you?" He asked quietly.

Unable to speak, she hoped he saw the gratitude in her eyes before he pulled his own away after his quiet question.

He seemed to shake off the moment between them and moved behind her again, placing his hands over her covered arms. He rubbed them gently up and down. "It is cold. Let us take the carriage back toward the shops. I am in mind to purchase you a new cloak before we leave."

Before stepping away, she leaned back into him not caring they were not alone. Her smile, she hoped, could be heard in her voice. "Fitzwilliam, do you not think the three I already own are quite sufficient?"

"No, I do not. You will need something more than wool if you are to survive the coach to Skye. There are not so many inns at which to stop. The bricks at your feet will be long cooled before they will be replaced. You may be of sturdy constitution, but I think you will fare better in fur."

"I will ignore your insult as to my robust condition," the swat at his hand belied her words. "If it is to be so cold, then I will just use all the three I own at once. But, I doubt very much I shall have to do so as, according to you, I am no delicate flower."

"No, that you are not. But, using three cloaks at once will never do. What good is _ten thousand a year_ if it will not purchase you some finery? Your mother would be appalled to listen to your disavowal of what is only your due as my wife."

They were not yet before the carriage, and she gaped until her husband gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders.

"Mr. Darcy," she lifted her brow, looking around assuring no one was paying them any attention, and reached her mouth to his ear with a whisper, "I think my mother would be appalled to learn her son-in-law's mere _ten thousand a year_ is really only hearsay. She might faint dead away to learn the truth."

"Aye, so you have read your settlement, then?"

"Nay, I am only supposing." She walked the short distance to the carriage and grasped her husband's hand as he led her up the steps. With a saucy look, she watched him with care as he followed her in. "Perhaps my mother would be more appalled to find herself at the expense of your mordant humor. Her nerves would indignant no doubt."

"Perhaps if I gift _her_ a fur-lined cloak, she would eventually grant me forgiveness."

Elizabeth could no longer hold herself back and fully laughed at the picture her mother would make receiving such a gift from her him of all people. "You, my husband, are a loathsome creature today."

Something heartening crossed his features before he settled into an exaggerated posture a puppy might take after a scolding, and she immediately rectified her rebuke meant in jest. "Fitzwilliam, thank you for taking me to the docks this morning. It has quite alleviated my concerns. I also thank you for allowing me to accompany you on your journey to Scotland. All of this traveling about may be commonplace for you and nothing remarkable, but for me, it is really something. If you insist I need a new cloak, then I shall be happy to receive it."

His contentment was felt by her as they settled into the squabs for the short drive to the shopping district, and though she could not understand how her words had any power over the man's state of mind, she was beginning to understand they just might.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to Milan for her invaluable assistance! She did not get a final look due to my impatience - so errors are mine!

Thanks for the well-wishes on my broken ankle - it is much better! Thank you, as always for your reviews! I truly savor and appreciate them.

This chapter really serves as the transition to them finding love together in their marriage, so I hope it is a start to satisfy the angst!

If you like the torment of angst, then I wrote a little playground piece on AHA. It is a little cliffy, and I have no time to really dedicate to it at the moment, so it will remain there for now. But, it is something I will expand after I get through with this and my other story posted here.


	37. Chapter 37

Elizabeth steepled her finely gloved fingers and moved them upward to touch the visible breath she exhaled. She filled her lungs again and raised up her boot to continue on the path. If one could hear them, her steps might be described as strident. By the flying of the wool and linen around her legs, her activity could at the least be considered agitated. Given the smallness of the yard, she felt as if penned in a paddock, bridled under bonnet and stamping under harnessed skirts.

Their party was leaving within the quarter hour.

Leaving England.

Leaving as carelessly and easily as if traveling on the sea from one kingdom to another was as simple as leaving Longbourn to trek across the easy distance of the fields and lanes to Lucas Lodge.

Excitement might be her sole focus if only her anxiety would abate. Elizabeth had complete awareness she was just enough of her mother's daughter to know the frisson which bounded in her middle was not just the hope of seeing new landscapes she never imagined seeing, but rather… nerves – not just the benign ones which plagued her mother, but ones which were born of real fear:

A fear for their safety – a fear for being trapped on a boat with no place to go but cold, watery depths, and an even less acknowledged fear of an endless horizon – no point of reference but the sun and stars pointing their direction to ventures unknown.

Elizabeth looked up seeing the last of those night gems fading as a greyish light overtook their home in the heavens. Oh… she would not wish; she could not; she should not. Natural practicality and a logical mind prevented her. Wishing was too much like wanting. She would not stand for her wants to be denied. No, the heavens and the desires of her heart were not to be trusted.

 _Perhaps for our fate, the captain at least shall have better luck_ _navigating those stars_.

Her inner longing was interrupted by someone calling after her. She turned to see a man who had become something of a friend. He had ever-knowing eyes and rarely an open smile, but on the occasion, it was just he and his new mistress, a gentle smirk surrounded by the fine brushstrokes of age would be especially reserved just for her. And while she appreciated his service and even more so, his generous spirit towards her, his presence opened a well-placed shadow on her heart and deepened the acute ache born of missing the acceptance only her family provided. Her father had similar wise eyes, and even when she felt chastised by them, they held affirmation. She looked up at the man whose hair matched the western sky where the stars still struggled against the opposing dawn.

"Good morning, Mr. Johnson. Have you come to fetch me?"

He stopped and gave her the courtesy she was due. "Aye, Mrs. Darcy. We are ready to depart shortly. Your husband has settled with the inn and is checking the preparedness as is his wont."

There was just enough inflection at the end of his words for Elizabeth's brow to arch in response.

They both knew what was left unsaid. Her husband could be quite particular, and it seemed a trait inflamed by travel. She had been too preoccupied to notice on their trip to Somerdale, but the more she spent with him travelling on the cold roads and over their time at Ffion, she had discovered a little more of his nature: he took much upon himself. No doubt for even the short trip to the docks he had already spent ample time this morning accounting for every piece of luggage… for a second time… and adjusting the girths and traces of the carriage horses until they felt just right under his experienced hand. He was a man who did not overlook details if he deemed something worth his attention nor did he leave those details to others when he could be satisfied by his own eye.

The valet's expression did not crack under Elizabeth's acknowledgment of her husband's newly understood compulsive nature, yet they both turned their heads to the carriage house.

Elizabeth looked to her husband's servant and folded her hands against her fluttering belly. "I suppose if it is time, then we must away. There is no sense in delay any longer."

Mr. Johnson nodded, bowed, and turned. Two steps later he turned his head and lost a little formality as he walked back to Elizabeth. Her feet, even with all their energy, stayed rooted to the spot unwilling to follow.

He gave a gentle smile and despite his position, held out his arm. "Mrs. Darcy, I think there is a time for a turn or two around this garden. Your conversation would do much in the way of putting this old man at ease before we set-off this morning. Come now, madam."

Mr. Johnson came closer with his arm extended. Elizabeth knew if she took it, he would lead her on and right into the carriage. It was time to go anyhow; with resignation, she placed her hand on the man's sleeve.

His other gloved, fatherly hand briefly patted hers. "Ah, that'll be a good lass."

Elizabeth giggled, actually giggled, at something so Scottish and informal coming from a man who normally commanded such elocution of the King's English. If a servant could be stately, Mr. Johnson qualified. It was really rather impressive and curious how refined the valet was. If one were to cross his path unknowing his employ, one might mistake him for a gentleman instead of a gentleman's gentleman.

He smiled down at her, his teeth still white through age. "We shall be in Scotland in no time, Madam; you will see. And there you shall be a _lass_ , no doubt. Have you been to Scotland, Mrs. Darcy?"

"No, Mr. Johnson, I have not had the pleasure." Despite her brief amusement, her words were tauter than she intended. "Please do not think I am not looking forward to our travels or ungrateful for the trip. It is only… it is just that I seem to have a bit of anxiety this morning." She suspected he already knew such and though proclaiming some for himself, it was all for her benefit.

He turned her to continue past the gate instead of through and continued to walk with her in the yard. "I take it you have never sailed the open water, ma'am?"

She gave a shake to her head rolling her eyes at her own timidity.

"Ah, and therein lies our concern this morning?"

"I think you have found me out."

He patted her hand again. "Take it from a man who has seen more than his share of open seas, you will be whole and hale this time next week and on Scottish ground. However, it is only fair to warn you, you should be prepared to earn your sea legs, but most likely by the second or third day in good weather, any of that unpleasantness will have passed you by."

Elizabeth stopped them both and stared up silently asking what exactly was required to obtain said _sea legs_.

"I take it Master Fitzwilliam has not bothered to discuss the finer points of travel by ship?"

"You assume correctly."

He resumed their walking. "It is not so bad, Mrs. Darcy. There is much efficiency in traveling by way of open water, especially in these modern vessels. It is just the human anatomy takes time to adjust to the movement of the water and a changing horizon. _Mal de Mer_ it is called. It is a blessed person who never experiences it. If I may speak plainly, Madam," here he continued at her small nod, "it is a feeling of nausea that may be no more than mild discomfort… or it may be something as wretched as eating a very bad pudding which had been stored in a larder much, much too long. However, for most, it is over soon enough and then you will be able to enjoy the stars like you might otherwise never see on the hilly British landscape – on the tremulous water they stretch and gleam all around. On a perfectly calm and moonless night, it as if you are on a bed of them. Come now, it will do you no good to worry, but I would not have you be taken unaware, nor Miss Harris. I can discuss it with her if you would like."

Elizabeth kept her feet moving in time to Mr. Johnson's boot falls. They were coming upon the open gate again, and she breathed in relief that he passed it. She wished to keep her legs on the solid English soil for a few minutes more.

"I thank you for your forthright warning." She meant it. It might be strange to some to have such a conversation with a servant, but she was glad to hear it from him in his no-nonsense, impeccable speech which left no room for embarrassment. "I shall discuss this with Tabitha at the first possible moment. It would not do for her to be taken unaware either. Does my husband know what to expect?"

"Master Fitzwilliam?" Mr. Johnson stared above her bonnet and clearly into a memory. He gave his head a shake to dislodge the history. "Believe me, your husband is a fortunate one who can walk bow to stern on a chalk line with a pirate's swagger, but then again, he has seafaring in his blood. His first time aboard a ship he was no more than a newly-breeched lad. Poor Lady Anne almost fainted when her son escaped his nurse and attempted the shrouds on the main mast while in his short coat. He made it a good way up before anyone took note. But, no worries, I think his behavior now some five and twenty years later has quite subdued. I have not seen him try it since."

Elizabeth was dumbfounded. _Seafaring? Climbing shrouds_? This did not seem likely. "Are you quite sure we are speaking of the same gentleman?"

"Yes, of course. I was there. That boy took a full company of handlers. Your husband was a hallion as soon as he stood on his own two feet… as was his father… as a young man, of course."

"Well." This was all interesting. It seemed Mr. Johnson might be a treasure trove full of tales and anecdotes which might give her a broader understanding of exactly just who this husband of hers was. There were so many questions now in her mind. "So, William's father? What do you mean when you referred to him as s _eafaring_? Their family – they travelled by ship often? It seems as perhaps it is not the safest thing to do with one's young child and that at a time of unrest no less?" She still wondered how safe it was even now.

Her companion, not concerned at all for the impropriety himself, a mere valet, escorting his mistress around an inn's dormant garden, led her past the gate again. The dawn now fully illuminated the sky, and he gave a small thought to keeping his silence, but she was asking, and he was inclined to share with her. He thought Elizabeth Darcy a charming young woman. If he had a daughter who lived, he would hope her to be just like this lady with a generous and innocent heart. Mrs. Darcy reminded him of the one he knew long ago, and he knew if Fitzwilliam would open his soul, then he too would know the happiness to be found in such a woman… a happiness which could sustain over thirty years and prevail even after being violently ripped away. Even the smallest of blink of knowing the true, unadulterated bliss found in the heart of a woman like his Rebecca, or like Fitzwilliam's Mrs. Darcy, was worth all the risks of losing it. It was a lesson which could not be taught but rather must be learned by experience.

Mr. Johnson sighed, audibly so, for probably the first time in a score of years. "Well, Mrs. Darcy. No, the family did not venture abroad extensively while Fitzwilliam was young, but there certainly was some travel. We were well protected anyhow by plenty of guns if needed and more than that, an experienced group of men who had been proven to victor over any situation. You see, my previous _employer_ , your husband's father and… my truest friend... was also once a Captain. Before there was Mr. George Darcy of Pemberley, there was Captain Darcy of His Majesty's Royal Navy, a second son who never imagined nor wished to inherit, nor was he ever prepared to do so. He is also the man who once saved my life, and my debt is still yet to be discharged."

Elizabeth was astonished. She had heard none of this nor had any inclination. "How incredible. No one has mentioned such a history." She also wished to know more about this debt but did not wish to pry.

"There is a not reason for most to make mention of it I suppose. Not many are still among us who might have known much about it. It is the same story that any second son may have, and George did not marry his Lady Anne until his brother had been gone two years; Fitzwilliam was not born for another three. Do not misunderstand, George Darcy was proud of his naval history and quick succession through the ranks for one so young, but he only spoke of it to the men who were there with him. Somethings are too painful to broach, and my friend did not retreat to the gentry so easily. Lady Anne, of course, knew his history, but I do not even know how much Fitzwilliam knows of his own father's life during the times he was away from Pemberley. He does know his father was a second son and there was some military career, but I believe that is the extent of it. He does not have his father's journals, and there is no one else now to speak of it at all."

A groom was spotted in the distance, and so she reined in most of her curiosity. She hoped Mr. Johnson would not be offended if she sought him out on their trip north.

Elizabeth knew her time was up as the groom closed in on the garden gate. Their journey was ready to commence. That strange and irritating fear bunched up in her insides again, and she quickly looked up to the older man beside her. Knowing she would at least be with an experienced sailor, she might surely feel some peace. "So, Mr. Johnson, you served under Fitzwilliam's father?"

"My dear Mrs. Darcy, I did and more than that, I served in His Majesty's Royal Navy for over a decade. You have nothing to fear in sailing. This is a good crew, and the _Louisa_ , she is a good ship. Your husband and Miss Harris will see you are well. And as always, should you have any concerns, I am at your service." He patted her hand for a final time and gave her the warmest expression an old, battle-seasoned Warrant Officer could muster before he inclined his head. Theodore Johnson had seen fear in the young lads who came aboard the ships for the first time; he recalled his own fear the first time he walked the gangway, so he knew good and well what was behind her eyes.

Relieved for knowing Mr. Johnson's care and experience, she gave him a grateful smile before dropping her arm. Pulling her chin up, she walked calmly to meet the groom who was now before them explaining the carriage was prepared to see them on their way. Elizabeth was now determined to embrace her new adventure.

* * *

Darcy was alternating between pacing within the stern outside his wife's quarters and pacing the full length of the gun deck for the foregoing four hours. Night had settled over them as the gales picked up their tune. Squally rains still pounded the decks above as the belly of the ship churned.

The weather and the endless listing were of no consequence to Darcy's apprehension; he could not be rattled by a slight storm. His faith rested great with the strong timber and the capable crew; no, his worry was not wasted on such a small concern, because it was captured elsewhere. He was all anxiety for his wife and how quickly her tolerance for sailing diminished in direct inverse to the waves as they towered as tall as half the buildings of London.

Early in the day, Elizabeth climbed the gangway with great wonder and only a mild look of fear in her face. He was proud of her courage and took pleasure in affording her an opportunity for a novel acquaintance with sailing. She marveled at the riggings, the cannons, and even the precious consignment in the holds after she demanded to be shown all aspects and crannies of the _Louisa_. She was fascinated as the winds and waves picked up and scuttled the ship about in conciliation. She said she felt like a seed on the breeze as they moved far enough out in the water to no longer see the shaving of England left on the horizon. The fog had cleared early after dawn, and their first day was spent pleasantly. The captain was utterly enchanted by Elizabeth's astute inquires and gentle concerns for the keeping of the men aboard who saw to their safe passage.

As Darcy walked his wife along the main deck through the maze of ropes, through the salty wafts of the Irish Sea, and in the company of the winter's sun, Elizabeth had squeezed his arm and asked after his own experiences in sailing.

"Tell me Fitzwilliam, on how many occasions have you had chance to travel by ship? This seems no evil to you; you are quite comfortable on deck compared to my feeble steps."

To prove her point and before he could respond, her boot caught a plank and they were both grateful for his tight hold, now upon both her arms, as he prevented her tumble to the rough wood where they trod.

"Well, and there you are, a fine example," she said laughingly. Once her boot was struggled free, she charmingly looked up to smirk at him and then down again as she kicked her boot from under her skirts testing it in the air before she bore her weight down again. "As much as this sailing business is a more pleasing experience than I comprehended, it would seem I have forgotten how to walk."

He looked down between them to see the dark leather disappear under her skirts, and with her so close, had a pang of jealousy for the shoe. He gulped, dislodging the thought, and raised his head in time with hers as a gust roared from an opposite direction knocking her bonnet down her back. He stifled the impulse to untie the ribbon bracing against her porcelain neck and let it all float away on the Irish current.

Somewhere above there were shouts of "Ready about!" and "Lee ho!"

Just before sails bloomed and their course changed, the sun alit Elizabeth's uncovered eyes as she gave him a bright smile. It was all he could do to refrain from the impulse to hoist her up into his arms and kiss her before all the crew to see. It was nigh a fortnight of torture since last tasting her laugh.

Snaps of canvas above a chorus of men interceded, and no longer was he the sole center of her attentions – Elizabeth was transfixed as altogether everything around her pitched at once on the command of men, the ship conquering nature's impulse and turning itself to take the advantage. She clasped her hands together and took a step back under the flush of full sails.

His own smile was now small but content. He said, "A marvelous feat is it not? Though humanity has been traversing the oceans for far more years than you and I can imagine. I too am amazed at the technique and skill to be had on a ship like this one."

He felt her hand rest upon his arm. "It is marvelous. Thank you for showing me, Fitzwilliam."

He met her eyes and saw true gratitude. There was something else, and it was surely that she was just taken in with all the ropes and riggings as he was – he had always loved sailing.

With enthusiasm, she looked up. "Shall we continue? I am sure there is still much I have yet to see."

He still recalled the slight squeeze he felt just under his shoulder and over the thick wool of his coat as she bade them to continue around the ship.

"If you are not yet cold, then I am at your service."

They walked for an hour, and at her questioning, he told her of some of his travels – all for business of some kind, mostly to Scotland and Ireland, a trip occasionally to the continent in times of relative peace. Since he was a young man and unless at school for term, he was rarely in one place except for when he could manage to remain at Pemberley for a month or two at a time.

She teased him for thinking his excursions were of little consequence as if traveling from the bowels to borders of England and into the seas beyond was as easy as loading a cart and team for a jaunt down a country lane. Half-annoyed and mostly charmed at first, he deliberated her point inwardly questioning if he should feel contrition for the natural entitlement in his life.

With her sardonic tone that he both revered and dreaded, she said, "Of course, where money is no consideration, a man like yourself may go on about as he pleases without a care to inconvenience of any kind, not that I am not grateful to come along in this instance. I am delighted with it all, I assure you; however, you must give _me_ at least leave to wonder at it all."

Further, she supposed, with a sparkle in her eye which he immediately guarded himself against after a subtle edge he regarded in her previous words, "As you proclaim you are always going hither and thither for the sake of your financial interests, and knowing you a little better, I suppose you are most likely too buried in letters of information from your solicitors and are most likely to be found at your riveted desk pouring over accounts until the numbers increase. Satisfied, you take in all around you without a thought of fancy and move on to the next query, conquer that, and continue onward to the next success."

She appraised him knowingly, "To me, it does not seem as if you take enough time to properly enjoy what your travel affords. Excepting a few occasions on our journey thus far, like this one, you have unceasingly had a great deal to see to. Truly, I am surprised at you staying in Netherfield for leisure as you did or us staying in London for a month complete considering all you must personally look after. I am surprised you found the time to be so settled."

He responded what he thought was in kind… or rather it was that he did not take kindly to her assumptions, "I assure you, time spent both at Netherfield and in London, and even at Somerdale, was borne of duty more so than pleasure. Despite the personal upheaval and distraction which do neither of us credit to discuss, I made gains and concluded business where needed. My first duty is and always will be stewarding my legacy. I have been raised to it. But, my dear, I am grateful you can take idle pleasure in our trip where duty to my concerns is foremost in my mind. And as such, I do have some correspondence to review. Thank you for reminding me so." Fitzwilliam detached her arm from his and turned her by the elbow. "You would do well to dress for dinner. The captain as asked us to dine with him this evening."

He was silent and unhappy as he guided Elizabeth to her maid who was across deck. Now, in hindsight, the image of her disappointed face flashed in his mind. They talked at cross-purposes just as often as they did not.

Sadly though, her suppositions were mostly accurate, and he did not really appreciate the reminder of an oft lonely life where his closest friends were his ledgers, books, servants, and letters from the few who cared for Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man. However, indulging in personal correspondence usually always gave way to the matters of import and management for which ultimately rested upon his shoulders. He was thankful for his cousins, sister, and the few friends, like Bingley, who remained steadfast even in the instances where he had only small portions of his time to give them.

Darcy had been fortunate in devoting as much of his time as he had managed to in lingering at Netherfield. There were certainly more pressing concerns which in any other instance would have called him away, yet he attended them best he could over post while giving priority to friendship. The undertaking of a new estate was not for a novice, and Darcy sought to repay Bingley's loyalty over the years by offering his expertise. Yes, it had been a great sacrifice of his time, as arrogant as the thought was, but it was done with the best of intentions in service of a friend. Bingley knew it and thanked Darcy profusely despite knowing that Darcy, perhaps for the first time, was also making the sacrifice of his time selfishly on behalf of his own feelings.

Bingley was no fool and knew his friend well enough to see where his interests rested… not even three miles down the lane.

Darcy slid a hand through his hair at becoming so transparent. Bingley saw through him, as he suspected Mr. Bennet had as well very early on, and his Aunt Ellen understood it from a single letter before he even knew what he was about.

If anything, Darcy should have thanked Bingley for providing enough formal excuses to stay in Hertfordshire, thus sparing him the mortification of having to own to all his associates he was tethered to a slip of a country maiden. No, he could not explain to anyone how he would not be headed off anywhere without her in tow.

After the night he first took Elizabeth in his arms in Netherfield's library, Darcy drew out every reason to assist with the estate and indulge Bingley's hospitality. His presence was requested in other directions, and instead, he held fast to staying exactly where he was just to win her hand. _And, indeed, win her hand I have… on the worst terms imaginable_.

Darcy held the railing of the quarter-deck tightly as the sun was setting. He had not gone to review letters or ledgers; instead, he left Elizabeth with Miss Harris and retreated higher on the ship to review his mind and the progress made with his wife since leaving Somerdale.

Looking to pink and orange ripples which were growing in height as the sky opposite the setting sun grew ominous in the distance, he pushed away from the lingering resentment her teasing caused. He had tried to tell her of his life and answer her inquisition, and yet she could not resist accusing him, though not directly, of being only concerned for his growing coffers and taking for granted his privilege.

Yes, he was entitled, entitled and required to steward his estates for generations he would never know… generations, he was now afraid, might never come. If they did not, it might be his greatest failure.

The ship pitched as it crested the waves which were growing at the moment. A pebble knocked into his boot. Bending down to collect it in his hand, he rubbed his thumb over the smooth shape as he stood to grasp the rail again with his other hand, knuckles white.

He closed his eyes and cast the stone as far as he could.

He hardly saw as it disappeared down into the now shadowed sea.

Even dark and rolling, and as much as he hated his emotions reflected in it, he loved the sea.

If he ever had a boyhood dream – a small, secret inclination of long-ago – to embrace the sailor's life of living freely, climbing the ratlines, and enjoying the simple pleasures of a duty-free life, he would not admit to now it when his lot was already cast and there was nothing to do but trudge forward in duty. Now, as a man, his only inclination was for a small piece of happiness along his way.

How he wished to tell her, but could never, of his inner thoughts and desires, of how sometimes his duty was too much and he just wished for the easy joy of an unadorned life enriched more by those he was closest to as opposed to being enriched by extensive lands and padded accounts. He wished to tell her that his current journey and pursuit, while cloaked in estate matters, was much pleasanter and less forlorn than any other in the previous years of his reflection, and most consequential… had the highest stake yet of all.

A happiness which rested with her. A happiness with his wife.

Others had it: his parents had found it; his aunt and uncle, his cousin, his friends. Bingley had it in droves; it was almost too much to bear to read the letters of his friend's joy in marriage.

Why should it be elusive to him? Should he not content himself with all he had? Perhaps a man should not have it all, and he should be grateful for the blessings and the requisitions bestowed upon him as son to George Darcy.

Fitzwilliam's mind absently wondered back further to a small parish church near Kympton, to a time as young boy when he was ignorant of his future cares, to a moment when he sat next to his father in a polished mahogany pew.

 _And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor…_

"And, I certainly do," he said aloud to the heaps of iron pointed port and starboard. He listened for his father's voice to reach out and admonish his petulance. Alas, the only other sound was the storm receding bashfully from its earlier relentless attack.

 _…It profiteth me nothing._

The mess of his mind adjusted to the present as he now walked past the last cannon of the gun deck in almost complete darkness. He reached for the flask nestled in his overcoat and took a small drink.

Unbidden, a vision of grace and loveliness shined briefly through his mind: Miss Elizabeth Bennet cloaked in a white muslin gown which he imagined was created for the sole purpose of slaying every gentlemanly thought. It was not even two months earlier, the night of Bingley's ball, in a darkened library where there was just enough light to see the outline of her womanly curves and the striking vehemence in her eyes.

 _Her voice travelled across the room and bore upon him. "I implore you, do not be jealous of their joy. It is an insult to your character. Seek your own."_

 _Another voice entered his muddled mind, the one from his childhood: …envieth not._

Elizabeth had taken not even a half-dozen steps down the stairs that night after leaving the library before he took her sound advice and followed her. They were engaged the next day.

Joy. Happiness.

Both truly denied thus far, and yet he would blindly still seek it – a nonsensical business to be sure. He was not so optimistic to think he would attain it anytime soon, and he now had the humility to know she may never grant it to him were he soon to gather his courage to ask it of her. But, seek he foolishly would. He would not give up hope. He would have faith.

 _Faith; Hope;_

His paces quickened along the rough sawn planks.

 _…rejoiceth in the truth._

He desperately loved his wife.

And, she was suffering. It was the cause to his pacing. He was waiting for news from her maid.

He was selfishly sulking while she was in torment.

 _When I became a man…_

 _…seeketh not her own._

He was pitying himself and his poor wife now lay in her quarters feeling the wrath of the sea on an untested body. Elizabeth had taken ill and never arrived to dine with him and the Captain. His concern was immediate as soon as Mr. Johnson discreetly relayed the message from Miss Harris, yet Darcy was relegated to either the corridor outside her quarters or one of those decks which were clear of men and goods. He was not even allowed aloft to assist the crew in weathering the storm.

He abided the dictates to leave the more accomplished men to care for the boat and to leave his ill wife in privacy, so he took to stewing in his own troubles… of course, it was not that he did not concern himself for Elizabeth's health and the misery which descended upon her shortly after the sun disappeared, but it was that his brooding thoughts for himself had been just as keen.

He took another drink, just a small one to quell his tremble. It was that voice again from so long ago, but it was his father's: _When I became a man, I put away childish things_.

Resolve overcame him in an instant. He could stay from her side no longer while he knew her to suffer. He was determined to provide any comfort she would accept.

Though the storm was lessening its fight, it gave quick rally as he reached her door. Bracing himself in the frame, he knocked quietly knowing it was now late.

Afraid he was too quiet and not heard above the rain pelting away at the strakes, he lifted his hand again. Before he could make a sound, Miss Harris appeared before him.

He could not make out much beyond the maid.

She started to dip into something like a rather vexed curtsey, but he stilled her with his hand. If he could comprehend any other thought than for his wife, he might have pondered why Elizabeth's maid was never truly pleasant to him. But alas, that was a thought he would not consider until a time later in their travels.

"Sir, may I help – "

"How is she?"

The impatience and concern of her master's voice briefly won over Miss Harris. She stepped away from the door and out of the room.

"Sir, she is currently sleeping."

"Is she resting comfortably then?"

"Well… not precisely. However, Mrs. Darcy is better than a few hours previous."

Darcy did not wish to be kept from Elizabeth's side any longer but was unsure how to dispatch the servant before him. This was his wife's maid and other than pay her wage, he had naught to do with her. He did not know her well, and the young woman's loyalty was clearly not to himself. A loyal servant deserved his appreciation, and so he tried a more charitable tact.

"Miss Harris, how are you faring? Thank you to seeing so diligently to Elizabeth, but it cannot be good for you to not have any rest. I accept responsibility for not assuring you would have relief on our trip by bringing another maid, so I insist you retire. I will see to my wife." He half-smiled while he gave a nod of dismissal and moved toward Elizabeth's door.

"While it is kind of you Mr. Darcy, my mistress would not like it. She is not well enough to be attended to by any other than me."

The maid's face was determined, but she showed signs of exhaustion. Though not always being skilled at determining it in himself, he most always saw the weakness in others and sought the advantage; it was to her own benefit anyhow. "Miss Harris, your dedication commends you. However, you are clearly tired, and it is late. Our journey has only started, and Elizabeth will need your care in the morning and possibly until we reach Scotland if she does not find herself better until we see land. How will you care for her if you are not rested? It is only you and I who aboard who can tend her, and you cannot do it through the day and the night. Please, I beseech you to accept my assistance while you recuperate."

Miss Harris did not immediately respond as she considered his words. As much as he knew he could order her away, he knew it would gain him no favor with Elizabeth or her maid.

 _…Charity suffereth long…_ Darcy refrained from rolling his eyes and banishing aloud the voice of reproach in his head.

"Sir, I suppose your argument has some reason."

He thought it absolutely ridiculous a servant should be considering his request as an argument at all and not an order, but he appreciated the young woman's pluck. No wonder Elizabeth liked the maid as much as she did. They had the same mettle.

"Miss Harris, you and I both know you will be useless if you stay awake all night. I can rest in the morning for a while. Please show me how to care for Elizabeth and then see to yourself."

Instead of saying another word, Miss Harris turned to the door and left it open for him to follow.

As he gained the dark quarters, lit only by a small lamp in the corner, he turned to see his wife tossing in her bed, her brow furled in sleep and perspiration on her face. He was immediately drawn and then stopped when an arm fell into his path.

He looked to the maid as she gave a shake of her head and then nodded to the corner of the room where he followed.

"Mr. Darcy. She has just fallen asleep again. She has been in and out of rest for several hours. There is water here and a cloth. You will need to gently mop her face and chest."

He was surprised the maid did not blush at the prospect. His ears went red as soon as she said the words, but she continued, "Mrs. Darcy will likely be sick again soon. Excuse me for saying, but you will see it for yourself anyhow since you insist to remain – Mrs. Darcy has been sick at the stomach several times. The captain has sent a man to come every hour with fresh buckets and water. There is already a clean bucket by the bed for the next bout. After she is sick, place it outside the door, and make your wife drink water. It is imperative she drinks, and you must remove the bucket to keep the room as fresh as possible. There are clean gowns in the trunk should she need it though I suspect she will prefer to see to that herself."

Darcy could only nod at what he was there to undertake.

Miss Harris looked at him appraisingly, and he was not sure he passed muster. So, he stood taller.

"Sir, are you sure you wish to do a maid's work? I will manage just – "

Darcy held his hand up to stop her whispered speech. "I vowed to keep her in sickness and in health. I will manage. Thank you for your service, but I require you to rest so you are available to Mrs. Darcy in the morning."

Miss Harris stood and narrowed her eyes as much as a servant could toward her master. Slowly she dipped a fresh cloth in a bucket of water, wrung it out, folded it, and placed it in his hands. It still dripped in his palm.

"Sir, I do not expect my mistress to be pleased to see you when she awakens and is ill; please give her my apologies. I do thank you though, and it gladdens me to see you care for her."

Incredulous, Darcy stepped back. What the maid did not say, but alluded to, stung every honorable feeling. It was not her place to insinuate caring for her was a singular occurrence. Any other servant he would have directly dismissed. He could feel the glower settle upon his face, and as he opened his mouth the speak, a painful moan came from the direction of the bed.

They both looked, and each took a step. This time it was Darcy who lifted his arm to stay the maid. He looked away from Elizabeth in time to catch the low curtsey of Miss Harris.

She gave a look of concern toward the bed and then turned to him with a sympathetic smile – the first he had seen from the likes of her. "My apologies, Sir. I trust Mrs. Darcy is in good hands. Please do not hesitate to send for me should you need me. I will return after a few hours of sleep. Good night, Sir."

He nodded and went to the chair to be near his wife. Comprehending her misery as she writhed in it, Darcy could not hear the door close.

He sat there, a little at a loss as to what he should do. He did not have much experience with the sick. He, himself, hardly was ever ill. When his sister took sick on occasion, she had a contingent of maids to see to her care.

Elizabeth lay on a bed which did not boast of any great size; it was smaller than his own. He damned the Captain for not providing his wife the better accommodations. Though, by the bottle of smuggled Champagne and the hand-written note from Bingley expounding felicitations – both left in a basket on the floor near the secured bed which Darcy found as he entered his larger quarters earlier in the day, perhaps the Captain assumed as a newly wedded couple, that they might most likely reside together during the evening.

…In the overly large and empty bed which would see him no rest.

Darcy rubbed his chin and studied his wife as she quietened. The bed covers were strewn about, and he saw her leg from the calf down uncovered and pulled up to her side. One arm rested above her head and the other lay tucked below her breast, clutched; several of the buttons on her nightgown splayed open though she was not exactly indecent. Her brows her still furled in anguish and her lips were pinched but slightly parted. Her skin was pale and unnatural. Long, dark curls had come away from her plait; one was plastered along her forehead and hanging below her eyes.

She looked to be the same woman he spied sleeping in his own bed at Somerdale, yet she was not herself.

He had never seen her not charmingly put together, even when it was unintentional, even when he had seen her in her dressing gown, she always looked so perfect. Even all blowsy after a walk in the autumn wind, she had the look of the wild and the sublime. Now observing her, he could see how ill and disarrayed she was. He strongly desired to scoop her up into his arms and rock her like he might a child.

Shifting focus to the cloth in his hand, he collected his courage. Pulling his chair closer, he tentatively reached out his fingertips to find her clammy skin. She was not warm as if feverish, and he allowed a sigh of relief to whoosh out of his chest. Though he knew in his mind she was just sick from the motion of the waves and miserable enough, he did not want to find her any more ill than arriving safely on solid land could cure.

He drew his thumb across her forehead and under the wayward, matted tendril. He pushed it back into her hair. Drawing himself off the chair, he got onto his knees and as close to her as he could. With one hand, he lightly caressed the hair behind her ear and the with the other he brushed the cloth across her brow, under her eyes, and down her jaw to the base of her neck.

She bore it well, moaning softly but remaining asleep.

Darcy wished more than anything he could take away her discomfort. He felt a powerful feeling of protection and awfulness in his chest. He very much hated she was so afflicted.

He studied her still delicate features as he caressed them with the soft, wet linen. He always marveled at the daintiness of her nose and chin. His hand came from behind her ear and cupped her cheek and jaw as she leaned closer unknowingly into him. One more swipe of her brow and he involuntarily moved in a wish to make her better. He leaned forward and laid his lips at the corner of her eye willing her to know he considered it a privilege to satisfy his vow to keep her in sickness.

He pulled back and took in the sweeping lashes which no longer rested upon her cheek as they usually did. Her eyes tightened, and then she opened them.

He drew back and dropped the cloth.

Her eyes were wide and then crushed shut again. It came out as a whisper as she edged closer to the bed and drew her arms toward something on the floor. "Bucket. Move."

In all his life, Darcy could not have prepared himself for the sight of his wife retching. He had seen other men become ill from too much drink, seen them toss their head overboard from the rocking of a ship, and once he vaguely recalled Georgiana becoming ill in the carriage. But, this… this was awful. He could not stand to see her laid so low.

In truth, his shock lasted no more than the smallest fragment of time, and then next he reached out to support her. He draped an arm around her back and loosely under her side to stabilize her from falling further from the bed. He used the other hand to pull back the loose hairs from her face. Soothing words naturally flowed through his lips though he did not grasp exactly what it was he was saying. He felt pained with her, and she had all his sympathies, all his feeling, and his words softly apologizing over and over.

The retching paused; her voice was weak and rough, "What are you doing here?" She again retched until he heard her breath form again a word. "Water." Once more she involuntarily hurled herself into the bucket, and then Elizabeth went limp under his arms dangling halfway off the bed yet not removing her grasp from what she held to her head.

Panic was prompt as he felt her body slacken. "Lizzy!" He sank back on his haunches and started to feel for her face to pull her up as gently as he could manage.

He was abruptly knocked away… with quite a lot of force for someone who, sick as a cushion, vomited and heaved for a full five minutes. "Water."

Darcy scrambled up and went to retrieve a glass and pitcher.

He barely heard her from across the room; "I need a wet cloth. Please." He grabbed at some of the linen which was folded and stacked upon the table. Most of the neat stack fell to the ground, but he managed, arms full, and he rushed back to where his wife still rested over the side of the bed.

"Here. Let me assist you. I am so sorry, Elizabeth." He poured the glass of requested water and attempted to hand it to her even in her prone position, but instead, she pushed him back again, more gently this time, and grabbed the cloth and glass from his hand. She dipped it in the fresh water before bringing it to her face.

Elizabeth then carelessly reached into a basket beside the bed and opened a jar of what must have been tooth powder. He sat next to her and tried to look away as she was still leaned over the bed with her head turned away from him. She then took a drink from the glass, and he saw her spat it out.

He heard less of her breathing, as before it had been too ragged not to hear her struggle, and his heart slowed as her body was again at rest. His surroundings and sense washed over him. Miss Harris said he was promptly to remove the bucket if his wife fell ill to keep the room fresh. He now realized why that was a good idea as his own stomach, usually steely and stern, was becoming slightly nauseated.

"Lizzy," he gently said to her, "allow me to take the bucket if you are ready." With tenderness, he reached out and tucked the wisps of her hair behind her ear again.

Elizabeth, miserly creature that she must be at that moment, turned her cheek into his hand and looked up at him as her weight dropped through her arm and to into her hand which now rested on the floor to support herself.

He saw the tears in her eyes as she looked at him in abject suffering. It was only a mere second before the bucket was momentarily forgotten and this time he acceded to caprice, scooping her up and arranging her on the bed. But, for that very small span of hardly a pulse... as she looked at him, as she was at her worst and most vulnerable, he did not think he had the capacity to love her anymore. There was no pity. It was the true, sacrificing feeling of wishing to take all her sickness upon himself, needing to gather all of her worries and pain, requiring himself to claim every unpleasant thing in her life and replace it with only that which was agreeable and comforting to her.

 _For now we see through glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known._

He settled her on the bed, pulled the covers around her, and soothed the wet cloth over her forehead and back into her hair. They did not speak, and Elizabeth closed her eyes. When he had wiped her face, he stood and removed the soiled bucket outside the door. He was pleased to find a new, clean empty pail and fresh water waiting for him to retrieve.

Moments later he was back at the bedside of his wife pressing a clean cup of water into her hands. "You must drink this."

She swung her head from side to side in small sweeps keeping her eyes closed. He reached out to draw his fingers over her brow again. "Just drink some; you know you must."

She opened her eyes and met his concerning gaze without the repentance for being so sickly before him as might be foolishly dictated to a lady of good breading. He was thankful; he could not bear it if he would have caused even more discomfort by his presence.

"Fitzwilliam, where is my maid?"

He tried to hide his frown. "I sent her to bed; she needed to rest. Drink, madam."

Elizabeth took a sip of her water and looked at him from under her lashes with a hint of admonishment. "Can I presume she went unwillingly?"

"Something of the sort. Is she always so difficult? I do not think –"

"No, she is always most wonderful. But, thank you. It relieves me to know she will rest a few hours. I just wish I were not so ill." He watched as Elizabeth settled back into her pillows as comfortably as she could.

"I wish too you were not so ill. I should have thought better of it when I planned our wedding trip. I cannot tell you how it pains me to see you like this."

Elizabeth, though clearly feeling wretched and perhaps a little too insensible to grasp his worried speech, turned the corners up of her lips. "I am sure it does pain you to see your wife so intolerable. Not so tempting when I am retching, am I?" She laughed quietly to herself. "My vanity has now come to a cruel end, Fitzwilliam. I cannot tell you how it pains _me_ that you must see me like this. Truly, I am not the best at being sick. You should see Jane. She is lovely when she is sick. She can cast up her accounts into a small wine glass and make it look everything graceful. I, I on the other hand; I am appalling. No husband should see his wife thus; if I were not feeling so horrid, I might even have the strength to be embarrassed, but I am feel too much like death to have any cares that you are here to witness me at present. I promise, I will be properly mortified tomorrow from being such a uncouth creature, and – "

"Lizzy, stop. I beg you."

"Oh, very well." He watched a haphazard smile come to Elizabeth's lips as she lay still. "Perhaps, I shall be ill more often, and then you shall have a more obliging wife. See how easy I did exactly as you commanded?"

Darcy gave a little laugh now of his own and retrieved the wet cloth to clean her face where she did not complete the task well enough herself.

"But, you are still talking. And, though I wish you more obliging at times, I would rather you be exactly as you are – even impertinent and obstinate, vanity and all. I think I might like you less if you were so did everything just as I asked."

"You are a strange man."

Did not he know it.

Elizabeth brought her hand from under the covers and grasped his wrist as he drew the cool cloth into her hair. "I am sorry."

His breath hitched, and before he could say anything, she continued. "I am sorry for how we parted this afternoon. I did not mean for my teasing to take an offensive turn or make light of your duty. I hope to be a good wife and lighten your load if you will allow it, perhaps after we leave this awful ship." She took a ragged breath, clearly forcing her apology through her physical discomfort. "I have made good progress with Mrs. Ellis in London, and I promise you to be a good mistress of your estates. Forgive me for my abominable speech earlier today? I did not truly intend to wound."

He took up her hand and kissed her wrist to show she was pardoned. "Of course, you are forgiven, that is if you also pardon me."

She smiled meekly and nodded.

"Now, you should sleep. You need rest and strength, Elizabeth."

She reached out for a book secured on the adjacent desk. "Will you read to me for a bit? I know you read French." The hint of her beguiling smile was not lost upon him.

Those words pulled him to a memory he should not think of while sitting upon her sick bed, but he took up the book from her hand. Though it belonged to her, he lifted it to show her the title and challenged her with a faint raise in his expression.

She lifted her arm just a little and waved her hand about and she rested her eyes. "Oh, I think it rubbish too. But, I am fascinated with the story. I think it is my father's idea of a joke. He finds entertainment in a generation of young men plagued with _Mal du siècle_ … and despises the prose-mongers to the point he tortures himself in amusement." She opened one eye to peer at him. "Do not worry, I do not believe he attributes those sentiments to you."

"Well, I should hope not."

"So, will you read? Just a little?"

"As distasteful as I find the subjects of _René_ , I will humor you, but only because you are half-asleep and quite too miserable for me to deny." He gave her a whimsical smile and opened her book only to have several little stalks of pressed trefoils fall into his lap.

He gathered them up and laid them to the side along with his want to tease her for using something so romantic as flowers to mark the words in a most banal work of literature. Instead, he quietly read in flawlessly coherent French.

Despite the words being utterly ridiculous and selfishly dramatic, the accented timber of his voice lulled his wife into sleep within minutes. He heard her murmur of thanks before he closed the book and studied her fingers which she had slipped over his knee. He took them up and kissed them with reverence before returning the little flowers into the book. He slipped again into the chair to watch over her as she began to toss.

Not ten minutes later when his wife seemed to have a brief reprieve in her slumber, Darcy pulled the book from the table again and opened it up to the page which was marked.

She loved the flowers and plants which grew so wild in the country hills. He knew how much time she spent in the still room in their London home, and he had even spied her once in the kitchens at Ffion sorting through baskets of dried herbs and flowering plants which were unique to the Welsh countryside.

Elizabeth was a unique woman, creating her potions and emollients. She read everything she came across, and she debated with skill. Her tastes and knowledge seemed to far outstrip his own in some respects. Though a lady with pleasing manners, truly conforming was not her nature. She was just as untamed as the flowers which she collected and pressed into her book.

He took up a single stalk, so neatly flat, and wrapped it up in his handkerchief.

Darcy spent half his night watching Elizabeth as she slept fitfully and the other half shoring her against the surviving traces of the storm which took its toll for the passage to their destination.

When Miss Harris returned just before the sun, he eased his thumb over his wife's brow one last time as she finally slept in some semblance of peace. He gathered his jacket, and with it, he carefully took the folded cloth from the table by the bed.

* * *

 **A/N** : My apologies for this taking so long. Also, in my impatience to post, I have not given my beta time to review. So, I'm sure a later version of this will be much better. Thank you for your reviews and sticking with me.

Maybe 7 chapters + epilogue to go? Darcy is now *selflessly* in love with her. Elizabeth will be next.


	38. Chapter 38

**Recap:** The last chapter saw D &E (as well as the lady's maid and valet) on a boat from Liverpool to Glasgow. They are traveling to Skye... a beautiful place which is an ideal setting for two people to discover more about their feelings. *wink* Anyway, E was in the process of gaining her sea legs, and her husband was upholding his vow to keep his wife in sickness.

* * *

The morning sun was bright and welcome. Oh, how she had missed it over the past several days. But, now, she was determined to bask in it and put away the last of her illness. If Elizabeth thought very hard to not think about the motion of the ship, she was sure she could manage to feel somewhat herself.

It would be all over today anyhow. They were to arrive into Port Glasgow by mid-afternoon. Broaching the deck, she spied her husband at the railing surveying the calm waters which enticed them towards their destination. A feeling of warmth washed over her.

Her husband was uncommonly handsome standing there as the sun and wind stroked his hair. And, to her good fortune, handsome did as handsome was. He was increasingly kind, and if she had not been so blinded the previous months she might have realized he was reliably so. Clearly, it was natural within his character though perhaps at times overshadowed by other shades. But now standing there in the morning's light, with no cloud to conceal the truth, she recognized him for what he plainly was.

He had proven a truly attentive man when she needed him most.

Taking turns with Tabitha to care for her as she was ill, Fitzwilliam did so with a sweetness and diligence any wife would be gracious enough to value. Though it mortified her to no ends to know he had seen her devoid of all decorum as she either moaned in agony or retched herself silly into a bucket, the man impressed her with his humble dedication.

No task was beneath him to perform on her behalf, and everything he did he did without complaint. Of course, he was unhappy to see her so ill, but at times she wondered if he was perverse enough to perhaps enjoy having the excuse to watch over her. She saw more of his gentle smiles as she lay ill than she had ever seen in all their acquaintance. Whatever his feelings were as he sat in the chair next to her bed holding her hand, she knew her own to be gratitude of the highest order. It had been a miserable time aboard the _Louisa_ , and she was not sure how she would have borne it without him beside her.

And now, upon her own strength, she came to his side.

Her husband's mind must have been quite far away because he was rather startled by her sidling along starboard to match his stance grasping the rough-sawn railing.

"Elizabeth! What are you doing on deck? Come, let us go below."

"Fitzwilliam!" With a smile to disarm his shock, she railed right back at him choosing to dismiss his concern. "I should think not. I finally feel as if I can move about. You will no doubt have to haul me down below this deck over your shoulder if I should be forced to go at all to that prison of a room." Elizabeth paused in reflection; throwing her person over his shoulder had been a task he had previously managed with no effort.

She moved on from such an unsettling thought and sported an impish smile for him. "Now, please wish your wife a good morning and inquire as to her health as a proper husband might; I have a favorable report."

Her husband showed no contrition nor did the worry in his brow smooth as he looked his wife over from boots to bonnet, but he endeavored civility well enough to appease even as he relented with a narrowing of his eyes not wholly believing her well enough to be about. "Good day Elizabeth, how do you fare this morning?"

As they crested upon a wave, she swallowed the last of her bilious sensitivities and smiled through the lingering unsteady feeling which she was slowly overcoming with every breath of fresh sea air. "Thank you for asking. I am well, I think. I feel much better than last night and think nothing will do me better than some clean air and sunshine." She looked to Fitzwilliam in a final plea and did not care if the desperation finally showed in her face. "I cannot go back down there. You cannot make me. If I am ill, I will retch over the railing not caring who might see me. I never wish to see the inside of a ship again."

At this, his face finally softened, and he placed a hand along her back. "Very well, Wife. I will not cross you but allow me to steady you. If you have not already eaten, do you think you might try a little breakfast in the Captain's quarters? It may do you good if you can manage it."

"Would it be so bad if you only retrieved me some water and a roll? I would rather remain on deck as I am. I can wait to eat properly until we arrive this afternoon."

His answer was a look which showed he was considering arguing his point. She nuzzled more of her weight onto his side and looked up to him. "Fitzwilliam, I promise to eat as hardy as you think I should but not until my two feet are firmly planted on the ground. Just water and a roll will do for now, please."

"Oh, very well. But, three courses at the very least as soon as we arrive, and not one less." He inclined his head in question waiting for an affirmative response.

Instead of losing the contents of her stomach, she lost her beseeching countenance. "You sound like my mother about to give a dinner party, 'Oh, Hill! Three courses at least. Call for the fattened goose!'"

Her husband could only look at her with a deep frown and serious, slitted eyes. "Very well, madam. We shall call for the fattened goose, and you shall have it for your dinner tonight."

Placing a personal wager in her mind, she chose to laugh to at him instead of responding with vexation. She was elated and felt victorious as she watched his humor crack through his adopted disapproval of her mocking until they were laughing together as their vessel cut through the waves to Scotland. Her husband had not teased her often, but he seemed to be managing it more, and she would be the last to complain if their conversations continued on their more light-hearted route.

When a sea spray hit up and over the bulwark, they managed to calm themselves, and Fitzwilliam stepped away after calling a young sailor over to keep watch over his young wife as the greenhorn attended his duties nearby. With a backward glance, Fitzwilliam stopped and asked, "Only bread and water? Are you certain I can't interest you in something more fortifying and a table in the Captain's quarters?"

She shook her head, and he stepped again closer pushing her bonnet back a little to take one final assessment of her face. "Are you sure you will be well if I leave you a moment? You did seem to sleep more peacefully the night last, but I cannot believe you should be up and about."

It was true she felt as if she had slept better the night previous, but how should he know? Did he not retire after seeing her asleep? Surely, he would not stay all night attending vigil when she was making so much progress?

Elizabeth looked into eyes which she now noticed looked red and fatigued, and they were searching hers. She could feel his concern boring into her, and her voice was hardly discernable over the waves. "Did you stay long after I fell asleep?"

His eyes soon averted, and he stood back from her. As very much a matter of fact, he said, "I left this morning just before dawn… and as every morning since you have been ill."

Elizabeth's grasp on the rail now included both hands as she looked out into the blue before turning back to Fitzwilliam. "Oh. Well, then. Yes, I can manage on my own for just a little while. And, just a roll, I thank you."

* * *

Land was a pleasing prospect if Elizabeth had ever seen one, and she thought she may just dance down the gangway. They were now ready to disembark, but land had been within sight for the last several hours, and with it had come an astonishing cure. She finally felt herself, and just in perfect time. Scotland was steps away, and it would be her first time on land not English.

A firm hand went to her shoulder, and a quiet voice bent her ear. "Perhaps you shall stop bounding lest you bound right off the boat and into the River Clyde?"

Her own hands smoothed down her skirts and then righted her bonnet. She whispered up to her husband, "And if I did, would you rescue me or perhaps let me drown after all the trouble I caused during our little voyage? Or, have you reversed your position and decided you might get on very well with me at the bottom of the sea… or in this case, a river?"

All she received in response was the ghost of a smile. Before her husband could rejoin, a strong male voice cleared his throat. Both Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were the recipients of an unreadable look from Mr. Johnson before he replied to the Captain confirming their lodgings in Glasgow… no matter the question was not addressed to him.

Mr. Darcy, somewhat florid in the face, cleared his throat and stepped forward to clasp the Captain's hand. "Captain, on behalf of my wife and the others in our party, I thank you for safe passage. I shall be sure to pass along our fine treatment and appreciation to Mr. Bingley as well."

"Certainly, Sir. We were honored to provide you passage and wish you God's speed for the remainder of your journey." The captain then turned to Mr. Johnson. "Sir, it is with much gratitude I thank you for your assistance."

Though Miss Harris, grouped with the party, only nodded her head at the scene, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam watched with curiosity as Mr. Johnson accepted the Captain's outstretched palm, clasped the man on the shoulder, and spoke with none of his regular formality. "Aye, nothing any other old salt would not have done. The _Louisa,_ she, here, is a fine ship and has a good crew. Fair winds, Captain."

The shouts of the men unloading cargo caused the men to breakaway and observe as the trunks were now being led down to land. As the passengers farewelled a final time and were sent to follow, Elizabeth dared to turn around one last time to memorize the ship and all its fascinations. She was sure she would have no cause or want to ever see a vessel so close again. It was an experience she could not repine, and with a final shudder and her burgeoning anticipation of what may come next in their travels, she made to exit.

Taking the offered hand of her husband, she did all she could to not look down. As happy as she was to descend from the ship, it was certainly more daunting than she recalled when she climbed the small walkway in Liverpool to board. The water was still below her, and the even wood at her feet was narrow. The smell and sounds of the seaport were all around calling out to her senses to study their cause, but instead, she focused on her destination and the safety provided in her husband's strong hand.

Before she knew it, she felt herself hoisted in the air, over the threshold and set firmly on the ground. His hands lingered upon her waist for just a moment, and then she wished for a moment more.

The feel of his touch made her wish to draw into him, and as she felt a breath again at her ear, she moved as close as her small hopes would allow. His words were warm and soft, and the feeling of him so nigh, if even for just moment, caused her to lean her ear the short distance to his mouth. To feel his lips on any part of her skin, if even by the accident of shifting too closely, was to fulfill a desire she had not realized had built itself up.

"Welcome to Scotland, Mrs. Darcy."

He unfurled his fingers and led his wife to the waiting coach.

* * *

 **A/N:** I have not abandoned this story, I promise! Above is really only the first part of Chapter 38 - sorry so short. But, I figured I should at least post something for those still interested.

I just sent this to my beta reader before I hit post, so this is pretty raw. But let's face it, I do not publish much of anything that is polished... except the few chapters my beta has been able to look at prior to posting. (Thank you dearest M.)

Anyhow, life has been busy and some other writing projects had me a little distracted.

Sincere thanks to anyone still following along. Really, I promise there are only 7ish chapters left, and some parts of those chapters are already written. I hope to prioritize this in the next couple of months.


	39. Chapter 39

**RECAP:** They just arrived in Scotland by way of ship.

 **A/N:** This is really the rest of chapter 38... but we are going to call it chapter 39 for simplicity. Also, if you re still following this, then you have my undying gratitude. I know I'm slow in posting and we just want them to admit they wuv each other. If you have lost interest, then I completely understand. But, I appreciate the reviewers and those who reach out. I've been sitting on this awhile, and in response to the guilt and concern (thank you for those who still express interest!), I'm posting this without a beta read. (M - I'm so sorry!) Thank you all for ignoring my awful errors.

PS - I swear to all that is holy that this story has a very delicious happy ending so good you are going to cry, and things are coming to a head soon. There is only so much tension, sexual or otherwise, one can take.

* * *

The fire was snapping and hissing, and it suited Darcy's temper just fine. He contemplated the exceptionally fine whiskey in his glass, an overture and welcome to Glasgow provided by owner of the townhouse in which they stayed as guests. Circling a finger over the rim, he wondered if the dulling of his senses might be worth the bodily harm come the morrow if he gave over and took his fill.

Previous to the previous autumn, he thought of himself as one who rarely indulged. Though since laying eyes on his wife, his well-won stalwartness in the face of temptations, women and libations alike, had waned. _No, it has been vanquished._

Did all wives drive their husband to drink, or was it only his own?

He wisely placed the glass down, now just half-full, and cinched his banyan tight before letting his doleful muttering escape to no one in particular as no one, _in particular_ , was in the room. And that, yes, _that,_ was precisely was the matter of current consequence.

He had spent the last several nights at her side, assisting and watching over her. Now he only watched over the damned fire and its wretched wet sustenance which would not stay quiet in its gasping as it burned loudly and bright as the tempest inside him.

Though now his wife was well and comfortable in the luxurious lodgings he had procured for their overnight stay in Glasgow, he was miserable to be without her. Watching her writhe for days in _her_ misery, he repeatedly told himself and God that he would exchange anything to see her happy and well. And now that she was, he was mortified to admit the loneliness was indeed a steep levy.

Adamant in resolve, for he would not give way to the wish of imposing himself, he instead filched a glance in the mirror before him which showed the door behind: only a solid piece of oiled timber and a single inlaid threshold forged the distance betwixt.

A knock and it may fall away.

His eyes, still lingering through the mirror, swept over himself and then trained down to the glass on the table. That honey colored liquid seduced his mind with images of the sun reflecting in Elizabeth's hair earlier just this morning as she stood at the edge of the ship with him, willful and sweet, determined to conquer the last vestige of her illness.

Perhaps he must check on her health, ensure the grand dinner which was managed for them had no ill-effect. It was the prerogative of a good husband, surely.

Or, perhaps he was only being selfish and wishing to gratify his own need to exist in her proximity.

The moment he decided to whisk her away from Somerdale and his family's expectations created there, he promised to only do right by her in an effort to truly win her. Standing on that balcony under cover of stars after his Lady Aunt's Twelfthnight affair, he declared in his mind to place no obligation on Elizabeth or her passionate spirit which was fully now comprehended as so undemandingly-kindled and innocently part of her nature.

Though their shared attraction, unbalanced or not, was facile, the underlying complexities to their union were not. And, not even as a Gentleman, for he was hardly that of late, but as a decent person with an ounce of compassion, it would not now do to knowingly ignore other fraught facets of their connection despite how easily they had shared the gratification of a kiss and on so many an occasion.

He stiffened sharply at the remembrance.

The taste of her lips, the feel of her skin, the scent of her hair… it had all infected an illness in him since he first drew his lips to her neck, held her in his palms, and breathed it all in.

The only cure, despite the best of intentions, was to feed the affliction.

She was behind his eyes every moment. Sometimes he thought of her in concern, occasionally in bitterness as he struggled with himself on his circumstance, but much too often, despite trying his damn all not to, he thought of her in ungentlemanly scenes conjured up and spurred onward by a mad wanting which could not be satisfied. Nevertheless, and even then, he always he thought of her in love.

It was that compulsory love which shepherded him to the door, and it was love's unrequital which caused him to lay his cheek upon the steady surface of the wood to calm his warring heart just in a similar manner like that of an infatuated school girl pining away after some first love.

If he was fully aware of his foolishness, he might have not whispered her name as if she might hear him.

His eyes closed as he allowed the door to take his weight and his troubles.

Gulping a deep breath, chastising himself duly, and still shoring himself, he knocked. He would only wish her a good night; surely, she would not give mind to such a small disturbance, and he would, of course, himself stay on his side of that invisible delineation of separation. He vowed himself a disavowal of expectations of intimacy until she came to express her care for him, and he would not press her in the least until he could be so fortunate.

When the door was opened quicker than expected, the imaginary line between his temporary dominion and hers was breached as he stumbled forth and could not catch himself before crashing down into the high pile of Axminster.

"Sir," a man's throat cleared perceptibly, "allow me to assist you."

Darcy felt his cheeks burn and reached to cover himself where his banyan had turned up over his back revealing an unfortunate lack of trousers. It was not that the older man with the now averted eyes had never seen his master's seat stripped bare before, but this was a new indignation for the younger of the two. Never had a man righted himself so quickly after a shock registered.

Taking in what Darcy supposed was the chamber in which his wife resided, his valet's presence begged the obvious question, embarrassment or not: "Mr. Johnson, would you care to provide an explanation for your attendance here?" It was voiced in confusion rather than speculation, and at least Johnson had the good grace to look to his surroundings with no less bewilderment, finally giving a nod more to himself.

"Mr. Darcy, your good wife arranged it so. I had asked her to desist more than once as she insisted… until she threatened to sack me and leave me in Scotland." At this, he gave a fond smile and continued to do so at the memory of the mistress's threat which he knew _she_ very well knew she had not the authority to make. The young Mrs. Darcy was as peculiar as she was kind, and she was as dismissive of the expectations she felt did not suit as she was dutiful in her new role to care for the servants she saw as in her purview.

"Allow my clarification, if you may," Darcy was now disturbed at the entire situation as he was perplexed by it, "Elizabeth not only demanded you to take a guest room but her own guest room… in the guest wing, and then after you declined, she indicated she would cast you out? As much as I respect Elizabeth's right to oversee those in our employ, I believe you and I both know she has no jurisdiction with you." Darcy raised his brow, but Johnson was now indifferent though standing at ever-respectful attention seemingly waiting for the order to leave. Darcy again tightened the tie at his waist, straightened to match the other man's posture, and continued, "…However, I believe I have observed enough in these past two months to know she particularly dotes on you as… as almost a member of our family rather than my valet." Darcy shrugged at the thought before he could catch himself; this man had always been as an extension of his family – even before Elizabeth and even after his father: "It is clear you are in my wife's favour just as you are in my sister's."

Yes, he thought, Georgie looked to this older man as any other relation though she did so more reservedly so than did his wife. And, as Mr. Johnson would kindly offer discourse to his wife when she sought him out – something he would never object to, Mr. Johnson was always providing his sister little treats and offering comforting, wise words when the chance might present itself. The servant was a gentleman in spirit, even if not in occupation, and it surely was at the influence of a father gone these five years. 'Twas almost a shame Darcy never shared the same conviviality with the man as it was he who spent ten times as much in company with the man than did ever Georgie or Elizabeth. It was this which brought him back to his point – their own relationship was that of master and servant – the connecting room, if any, which should be shared between the two men should be a nothing more than a connecting dressing room and bed chamber. But… if Elizabeth had insisted… _who can guess the workings of her mind – not I_ … then perhaps an extension of special cordiality to his servant was in order. Darcy was grateful for the man after all in his own way. Purposefully relaxing his pose to invite the other to do likewise, he said without care to his words, "You know Mr. Johnson, Elizabeth is as likely to sack you as she is able to actually do it. Let us neither deny it: she would likely sack me first if it were possible to sack one's husband."

Mr. Johnson, in a rare show emotion, smiled ruefully at the floor and then offered his friend's son a look of exasperated chastisement.

"Nay – do an injustice to your own discernment if you will, young man, but not my own." Johnson quickly continued as if to cover words he did not wish to say, "But you are correct that Mrs. Darcy is indeed all benevolence to me. I well understand her threat to _me_ was idle, yet the one she is issued to Sir Hanbourough's housekeeper was not. As much as she made her _appeal_ to Mrs. Stewart and did not need to justify herself, she did explain her reasons, and it was twofold – forgive me as my only intention to repeat this is to explain the events – firstly, Mrs. Darcy insisted to the staff she would see both myself and Miss Harris in a guest room after being kept on a ship for so many days. And though I repeatedly made clear I would take gladly take as much as a hammock and certainly the servant's quarters any day over any guest chamber here in Sir Hanbourough's home, your wife was quite forceful in having her own way." A smile almost cracked through Mr. Johnson's reserved face on this point. "I believe Mrs. Stewart was quite scandalized at Mrs. Darcy's _polite firmness_ , so I thought not to make any additional quarrel. Secondly, I believe Mrs. Darcy was concerned for Miss Harris's comfort sleeping below stairs in such an unknown home with so many large, male servants about. She expressed a wish to have a connecting room with Miss Harris, and a cot in a dressing room would not appease the mistress. Further, since Mrs. Darcy in her attempts to be a gracious guest, would not allow the housekeeper to prepare any additional rooms other than required, it was settled I should have this one rather than let it go unused. However, I assure I am fully set to make my way below stairs if you would wish it, Sir."

The fact that Mr. Johnson more sentences together than Darcy ever heard and was not prepared for sleeping – in fact, was still dressed as he was when Darcy last saw him – provided truth to the valet's last statement of being prepared to make his way to that part of the house reserved for servants. The valise laid upon the bed unopened.

Darcy went to the bed and removed it to atop the small desk in the corner.

Though incredibly disappointed to find his valet situated in the room next to his own, perhaps it was for the best the inducement of Elizabeth was removed. Darcy, after lying his valet's small traveling to the side and sneaking a glance back to the now empty bed his wife would not be tucked away in, cinched his banyan for likely the hundredth time since donning it and was decided. "Mr. Johnson, I believe as untoward as this all is, it would do no good for either of us to go against Mrs. Darcy's wishes. Enjoy these rooms for the evening; you know as I that neither of us shall have anything close to this luxury on the way to Skye. I am also sure Hanbourough will find quite the humor in this and take no offense. As to his housekeeper, perhaps an extra coin or two will soother any feathers ruffled, unintentionally I am sure, by my generous wife."

Mr. Johnson smiled openly this time. "Very generous," and then seriousness to duty overtook the conversation again. "Sir, should you need anything else this evening?"

Darcy assessed himself. "No, Mr. Johnson. I am assuming all is ready that can be for our departure in the morning?"

"Yes, all is well. Both teams and the riders have all been assembled. Sir Hanbourough was quite thorough in his instructions on your behalf."

"Well, then, very good."

"Yes, have a good evening, Mr. Darcy."

"You as well." Darcy turned to go back into his chamber leaving the strangeness of this occurrence behind him attempting to understand the motivations of his wife… until the unintended memory of their departure from aboard the _Louisa_ intruded; the discussion between valet and captain was an intrigue. Darcy stopped and turned again to his servant. "Mr. Johnson, what say you to a nightcap?"

It may have been mistaken on his part, but Fitzwilliam noticed the lines in Mr. Johnson's face paternally soften for a beat and reminding him for whatever reason of his father. Yes, it was a look of friendship that as a boy he had seen between two older men.

"Well, Mr. Darcy, I am not one to imbibe for many years yet, but I could do for a finger of fine scotch whiskey. Thank you for offering."

Darcy waved to the chairs by the fire in his own rooms and went to procure a second glass for his valet without thought to how few men of his own station might serve a servant.

Darcy handed his man the glass and sat; the man followed. They were silent for a moment while the fire still made a nuisance of itself. Of course, it was forgiven for the warmth it provided behind the protective screen which kept the cinders in place.

Darcy finally was roused to ask the question which had earlier come to him. "Mr. Johnson, I noticed the captain this morning expressed his thanks for your assistance the night of the storm. You need not explain, but I do admit to curiosity as I was barred from assisting myself."

Johnson only stared between the untouched drink in hand and the fire before him. "Sir, no offense is intended, but saying plainly, there is no room for an unexperienced man above deck in such a situation. A greenhorn with even a year cannot be found seaworthy with what those scuds brought."

Darcy's response was just as plain without the formality of saying so. "And, _you_ would be considered experienced? I know we have sailed enough in our travels, but I do not recall a time where you have assisted a crew in such a capacity to learn so much as what you now describe as necessity for supporting the crew during the kind of storm we had the first night on the _Louisa_. Even I was fearful there for a moment or two. Mayhap, it is only I have never paid enough attention, and my apologies if that is the case, but I was not aware of your interest in knowing or learning the ropes to be experienced enough to merit such gratitude from our captain."

"No apologies required, Sir. You see, once learned from a young age and in all manner of conditions, the way around the rigging is not easily forgotten. Sailing is not so much an interest of mine as it was once a way of life. You forget, young Master, _I_ am an old man. I was grown many years and had already lived a full life by the time George and Lady Anne were so blessed with you."

Mr. Johnson's smile from earlier had returned in a small measure, and Darcy secretly delighted in drawing out his valet's diversion from formality, "Forgive me, but I do not consider you so old. You were of an age with my father."

"Ah, and if your father were here, he would clap you on the shoulder, hunch himself over, and proclaim to be so old as to have as many lives as me… though his strength would certainly deny any dotage."

Both men were again silent for a few moments; one thinking of his friend and debts owed, and the other thinking of a father he missed terribly.

"You know, he was not so strong at the end."

"That, Master Fitzwilliam, cannot go unchecked. Your father's strength was great until the last. The most important strength resides here," he motioned to his head, "and here," and then to his heart. "The only time he faltered in strength in the whole of the time I knew him was after the death of your dear, departed mother. He loved her greatly and his grief was no match for the bottle, but eventually, he prevailed through even the worst of pain. I believe it was his greatest trial – that and leaving you and your sister. Nevertheless, he was stronger for his adversities and remained strong to the end. Do not speak otherwise."

Imagining his father's last moments proved to be too much for Fitzwilliam to bear, and so, he changed the subject after a minute used to compose himself. He drew his knuckles away from where he had drawn them to his mouth. "Mr. Johnson, let us go back a moment… sailing was a way of life for you…" The inflection as it was said fashioned it a question though Darcy was not quite sure if his valet would oblige him based on the distraction of a spectre which persisted about in the room.

Each man drank in that presence and relished the silence which lasted longer than it did in reality.

It came abruptly to an end as Mr. Johnson finally lost his usual stiff posture.

"At the age of eight, I was aboard my first ship. And, there I stayed until I found myself on one captained by your father. By such time, I had gained the status of warrant officer – I was purser by then... which was only on account of the luck of a captain in my youth who recognized my head for numbers. I am as grateful to that man as I am to your father."

Darcy was all astonishment. It was an accounting of which he had never heard the likes; he had to be sure. "Pardon, I do not know which I accept less, that you were an officer aboard a ship or that my father captained one. How could I not know either? Forgive my disbelief, Mr. Johnson, but this is fantastical." By now, Darcy was standing and staring hard at the other man never believing his valet could speak an untruth. They were never confidents or even close and, therefore, keeping to formality a majority of the time, but Darcy had been brought up to give the man every respect of being the friend of his father and not just a servant. And, no wonder at it if there was such a history.

Just as quickly as he had stood, he took a seat in better understanding knowing if the words were spoken by Mr. Johnson, they must be true.

 _Astonishing._

There were so many questions. He dared not directly ask the first relating as to why he should not have known this earlier. Those feelings of exclusions would be examined later, so he eased himself into this new information and asked the next question logically formed in his mind.

"How should even a warrant officer of the navy become valet?" He apprised the man next to him with new scrutiny. Clearly, the answer was his father, and Mr. Johnson, in Mr. Johnson-fashion, was direct in response but not before first eschewing his normal impassive fortress of decorum – the valet, or sailor, or rather… officer downed his previously untouched drink before confirming the obvious and that which most wanted for explanation.

"Through your father, of course. He was called home after the unexpected death of your uncle, and I had spent enough of my life on the seas in service of the crown." He rose and walked toward the connecting door with no permission requested to retreat. A faraway look lingered, and he spoke again before he gained the door, seeming to remember himself. "Sir, I thank you for the drink but think I shall return to the chamber so generously offered by your wife. I hope you do not mind me saying, but a better choice you could not have made… and I do not say such a thing because I am sleeping above stairs in a well-fitted up room far above my meager needs." The valet appraised his young master with a penetrating look. "Good night, Mr. Darcy. We will be early to rise – before the sun, so retire soon, Sir."

 _Sleep?_ The idea was preposterous. He wished to detain his valet; there was certainly much more to this disclosure. _My father, a sea captain?_ _Impossible… except Mr. Johnson would never come up with such a tale_.

How could this man not expect to immediately answer questions!

Darcy looked at the clock above the chiseled and polished mantle. Indeed, it was late, and they would be on the road with the sun. "Good night to you, Mr. Johnson. I hope we can speak further on this subject."

"Certainly; all you need is to ask." Mr. Johnson bowed and closed the door behind him, his words and withdrawal a contradiction.

* * *

Not hardly sleeping for more than two hours than was Darcy wrestled from his fitted, hazy dreams and set upon the road northward in the frigid Scottish air.

Elizabeth sat across from him sorting the forwarded post on the bench beside where she was bundled under a fur lap rug. Her neat pile of letters was not superior in quantity or origination to that of her husband's, but she had no room for complaint. There were letters from three of her sisters, three of her aunts, and one each from a dear friend, a dear cousin, and a dear father. She even had two from Mrs. Ellis in London and one marked from further north in Derbyshire than the other two from Somerdale. Pemberley's housekeeper, the revered Mrs. Reynolds by all accounts, had written to her. Some letters were torn open; sighs, eye-rolling, and the errant tear or two escaped. But, she kept to her task.

The husband's correspondence, ignored once ordered, seemed to come from every county in England and beyond. It was beyond absurd the cost of postage spent on communicating with a single man.

Said single man – not really single at all – and his wife was ensconced in a carriage carrying the Hanbourough coat of arms; they were followed by plainer equipment carrying a gentleman valet and a hardy young lady's maid. Both carriages had really only just started from Glasgow, and Elizabeth suspected her entire morning might well go by rather quickly, despite the frigid air, when she had so much to engross herself with. Some of her letters remained unread, and some disserved even as much as third perusal.

A bright ray, the first of the morning, floated over frosted fields and hit her square in the eye through the carriage glazing. Before she could reach over and lower the shade from the glare, a sleeping bear grunted and lumbered unseeingly to perform the task himself, and in quite a querulous manner expected of a beast but very unexpected of a husband.

Elizabeth drew back her gloved hand slowly and studied the cumbersome way Fitzwilliam attempted to arrange himself, hat over his eyes and rug pulled to his chin, in his self-appointed lair on the rear-facing seat.

He had been clipped and more quiet than normal since they departed just an hour previous, and after quietly thanking his friend's staff and checking all was well with the luggage, out-riders, and horses, he variably pitched himself on his bench, huffed and puffed, and closed his eyes.

 _The poor thing, he doesn't quite fit_. She felt dearly for him and his lack of comfort, but she still brought her hand to her mouth the cover the humor wishing to escape. He was a large man, not to be mistaken for anything but a fit man – tall and broad nevertheless. Sitting-up straight and arranging his feet on the floor in front of him in his own oversized equipage, he always looked a tad uncomfortable though determined to manage it. But, now, in a carriage not his own and perhaps built for the common man not quite so tall, and as he inclined in the corner wrestling to find some semblance of bodily comfort, her husband reminded her of a time when she once helped her Aunt Phillips dress during a lengthy visit. The woman, unfortunately, refused to let out her dresses despite a repeated over-indulgence in her cook's plum pudding, and now, it was just as amusing to see someone attempt to fit in a space just a little too small to bear the brunt of the volume required.

She watched him continue his fidgeting at one point even seeing him attempt to pull his hessian clad feet onto the bench like a child, all curled-up might do. He seemed to catch himself and thought better of it, for then he thumped his feet on the floor in frustration.

Before Elizabeth lost control of her mirth, her husband's head rolled back and the hat which had pulled over his eyes cocked-up to one side. The man opened a single exposed eye to glare at his wife. "Madam, do not you even dare."

It was just too rich; Elizabeth's restraint flew straight out of the carriage. She laughed so loudly no doubt the driver heard her above the clattering hooves.

Not a moment later, her husband's afront arrested her as he bolted upright on his seat and now glared at her with both eyes and not only one. He was silent, and by god, she thought the poor man looked as if he hadn't slept in a week. She was assailed by guilt – he had likely not since he had taken care of her every night aboard the _Louisa._ He was so kind and solicitous of her needs as she lay ill, she almost though it borne of greater feelings than duty. She shrugged that thought away determined not to analyze anything but what was in front of her, and in front of her was a man who should have surely slept the previous night since being relieved of the burden of caring for her. But, then, she had not slept well either in that big, ornate bedroom – so opulently irritating and grander by far than even the rooms she had at Darcy House or Somerdale – the bed much too large for a single person.

The smile from the diversion of her husband's predicament became something fond and touch tender as no matter how she tried, the gratitude for his care on their sea journey still warmed her, and she felt a great deal of compassion for the burly man only in want of thick facial hair to truly be the bear she thought of him as when his look was so severe and unpleasant.

Elizabeth tucked the correspondence she was sorting into a basket, tucked a stray curl over her ear, and moved herself to the other seat. She ignored his startled expression as she was determined to see him comfortable whether or not he could abide her on the same side of the carriage.

Calmly, as if she reached out to pet an untamed creature who might bite with a snapping jaw, she removed Fitzwilliam's hat and placed it on her own seat. Next, she drew the curtain on the other side of the carriage and pulled another rug from under the bench.

He watched her with tired eyes, no longer glaring. She smiled as she pushed him back gently onto the makeshift pillow she fashioned over the squabs. "You, Mr. Darcy, must learn to be laughed at. But, for now, it seems for the sake of your temper, you should rest – it is early yet. Allow me to assist you – as well-sprung as it is, this carriage is much smaller than your own. I am your wife, and your comfort should not be placed above some silly thought of propriety. If you can see me at my worst, then I think I can abide you placing your feet on the cushion across from you." With that, Elizabeth, turning to face him and bravely - without nary a maidenly flush, placed her hands behind the knees of her husband and guided his legs to stretch across the aisle and rest upon the opposite seat. Though she did not feel heat on her cheeks, she did require a moment to compose herself before she resettled the rug over her partner the way a mother might over her children. He actions were not so unsettling, for she was determined to see him comfortable, but his stare, still unflinching and now so mild, was unnerving.

When she was satisfied with her work, she took up her seat next to Fitzwilliam and clutched her hands together until a jostle along the road caused her to bound up and land just a breadth closer to the man who now seemed not sleepy at all. She checked him over again not bothering to move back away; he was cosseted up practically as a babe, and she thought him a very good sport. But, upon further inspection, in that still unnerving silence, she saw with every small bounce of the carriage a wave of dark hair leap over a darker brow.

Unwilling to allow him to be bothered by even the smallest inconvenience, she leaned over him and smoothed that unruly lock back into his hair which was a smooth and thick as she remembered. She was unsure if he was still following her with his eyes because her own closed of their own accord. His breath danced along the side of her cheek, and if she were an honest woman and someone had asked, she might respond that her lingering there within his reach was an attempt at temptation.

But, alas, and an unfair thought, indeed, he proved to her just how true his words were which were spoken on an Autumn night in Hertfordshire. To tempt him was futile. He only seemed to partake when he had his own reasons.

She righted herself, turned to him not meeting his eyes and patting his shoulder, making busy her hands rearranging the fur over him again. As she moved across back to her seat, she quietly said, "I hope you are comfortable now. I did not sleep well last night either, perhaps we should both try to rest before the first stop."

He caught her eye, and all her effort for constraining her sensibilities flew down the road behind the carriage. As if now sensing some distress in her, he gave her a stern look, and said, "Yes, I should ask you to rest yourself or at least keep the shades drawn; otherwise, I am afraid I may as well undo all this coddling you just put me through and give no thought to a nap. You, madam, are a flight risk at the first sight of some pastoral scene, which I am sure exists outside the window."

If it were not for the barest hint of a smirk, she thought he may be scolding her – she knew well her curiosity and her wanting to stop and take in all the sights so far on their journey had been less than efficient for their travels. But he was not scolding in the least! _Teasing man!_ The beat she felt pace through her belly and up to her neck picked up again in delight. She could not help the shy grin which spread on her face to replace not only the grimace of embarrassment for her earlier forwardness but the antagonizing annoyance she felt for their situation – how could one be _forward_ with a husband? She wondered if any other wife has such a conundrum of a marriage.

The smile slipped a little as her thoughts bound from one place to another.

"Elizabeth?"

And, the smile picked up again, though less genuine as she returned her attention to the actual man instead of just the thoughts of him.

"Elizabeth, it was a jest. But, if you did not sleep either, then you should make yourself comfortable and rest. I believe neither of us does well when overtired. If you would like, come sit here. Georgiana likes to use me as her personal pillow on long rides, and as my wife, you are entitled as well."

Her eyes blinked in rapid succession. She felt she had a similar conversation before, and she quickly realized she had, on the day of their wedding. How far they had come in their relationship, but perhaps, she now realized, not far at all. Thinking of that day, that evening, and all the awfulness which had come after, she wanted in no way to return to things as they were then.

He was offering the same comfort _now_ , just as he had _then_ – to rest on his shoulder. _Then_ , only a few months prior on their wedding day, he came to sit by her – unsolicited but caring all the same – as she cried as the horses took her from the love of her family and only home she had ever known.

 _Now_ , he was asking her to come to him, gentle and reassuring – the bear of a man long gone. Sometimes, her circumstance was difficult to comprehend. Here they were, in the middle of Scotland, and her husband – a man she knew well yet at the same time did not, a man she was legally bound to for the last two-and-a-half months, a man who looked snug and lounging (at her hand no less) in some luxurious carriage belonging to some Lord Something-or-Other – was offering her a place.

" _Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let the world slip._ "

Her eyes latched to her husbands. "Macbeth? …No…"

" _If I be waspish, best beware of my sting_."

Eyes, still well and latched, narrowed. "Am I the _shrew_ here?"

For the first time in the morning, he genuinely laughed until he became very haughty – entirely for her entertainment. "Certainly not. I am only saying it is early and uncomfortable in this tottering, horribly small vehicle… finely appointed as it is, but it might be a bit more pleasant for both of us if you sat here next to me to repose a bit. You are also warm, and I happen to be very cold. If you come, I will even allow you to open the shade to look out at the lovely scenery once the sun rises a bit more. But, just a little so you get no ideas of becoming a tourist just yet today."

"How magnanimous. You are awful."

"I will only be awful if you insist on stopping before we must refresh the horses – it is much too cold this morning. Now, please come here and share your warmth."

He was correct in that she was warm. _Strangely warm on this cold morning_.

Despite the strangeness, the strife, and the misunderstandings of their short marriage, he was still attempting to make things well between them. Nothing would erase the difficulties they had endured, but for the first time, she truly felt hopeful. There was no one about which spurred him on in his kindness. And, it was not like aboard the ship where she was ill without a proper staff to care for her, nor was she needing support in the face of company she did not know. It was just them in this carriage, and despite his surly manner as they left Glasgow, he was now all soft smiles and Shakespeare.

An inviting hand escaped the swaddled rug to reach out for her.

She would be a foolish shrew not to accept.

She was done being a fool, and she wished to show him she was done being tame.


End file.
